


Tea, Coffee, Kisses

by RatedTForTerrible



Category: Highwyn Horizons, The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bottom Julian Devorak, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Smut, M/M, bc of course, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatedTForTerrible/pseuds/RatedTForTerrible
Summary: Doctor Julian Devorak is a man who does his best to serve his patients, and despite a minor penchant for overindulging in alcohol, he remains deeply dedicated to taking care of others.How strange that a night of overindulgence leads him to the door of someone who wants to take care of him.(Or: bad things happen to Julian all the time, so here's a fic of good, wholesome, eventually nsfw Julian content)Update: Fic is finished! Thank you everyone!
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Charon of Callay
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	1. Survival, and the other Option

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrongerThanAnySword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrongerThanAnySword/gifts).



> Friend: julian is my son and he only ever has bad things happen to him  
> Me: icanfixthat.gif
> 
> Julian Gets Treated Nicely, a fic.

Julian woke up to a splitting headache and a weight in his limbs like there was lead running through his veins. He groaned, trying to pull himself from the last dregs of sleep, trying to shift position despite how exhausted he was, how impossibly heavy he felt. 

He’d been hungover enough times to realize exactly what this was, and he wasn’t foolish enough to make any pretend-promises, even to himself, about never drinking again. But… he certainly regretted drinking so  _ much _ . 

He regretted it twice over when he opened his eyes and didn’t know where he was.

There was sunlight coming in through the window, so at least he felt assured he could assume it was morning. The bed was unfamiliar, body-warmed and comfortable enough, he supposed, even amid his suffering. He had suffered in worse places. 

Nothing about the room was familiar to him. There was a bedside table, a dresser, all the usual hallmarks of a bedroom. A flowerpot, in full bloom, sat on the windowsill, and while the room was a little small and relatively plain, it was tidy.

And he appreciated none of it. The inability to place himself, the pounding pain in his head and his bone-deep ache meant that there was little appreciation to go around.

He tried to sit up, failed, and grumbled as he sank back down into the pillows. 

Unable to do much else, he laid there with his eyes closed, dozing, until he heard the door open. He hadn’t been waiting long, he thought… had they known he was awake?

He cracked his eyes open with a grimace and was finally greeted with the view of another person. The man was slight and blond and held a tray in his hands, a cup of tea and a book sitting on top of it. 

Then he noticed that Julian was awake, and he smiled.

“Well, good morning,” he said, his smile brightening a little. “You survived. Well done.”

If this was survival, Julian would take the other option.  


“I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. This was supposed to be for me…” He set the tray on a nearby chair and moved to take the teacup from it and set it at Julian’s bedside. “But I think you’ll need it more. And I’ll get you some painkillers. Your head is probably killing you.”

Having someone bring him medicine rather than the reverse was a profoundly annoying experience. Or maybe he was just hungover enough that everything was annoying.

“Let me help you sit up, and then you can have some tea, alright?”

He flinched when the man came close. He couldn’t have explained why, but the man thankfully never asked, helping him sit up and then stepping away, his warmth leaving Julian strangely bereft. 

He set his book aside and tucked the tray out of the way, disappearing momentarily and returning with the promised painkillers.

The first sip of tea was mercifully grounding. The painkillers were a little hard to swallow, but Julian didn’t pay much mind to that.

“So…” The blond said, regarding Julian with a careful eye. “Would you do me the honours of telling me who I picked up out of the gutter?”

Julian winced. Was that where he’d been found? His memories of the previous night were hazy.

“My name is Julian…” He said, frowning at the roughness in his voice. “Julian Devorak.”

Hesitating, Julian corrected himself again, “ _ Doctor _ Julian Devorak.”

He couldn’t even give a proper introduction. He could feel his headache in his face.

A glance to his rescuer was enough to catch the man’s amused expression, but he said nothing to highlight how much of a mess Julian was. Indeed, they both had no need for it.

“My name is Charon,” he said. As Julian miserably sipped his tea, he saw fit to provide him with a little more context. “I was on my way home from work last night, and I saw you lying in the street. You were breathing okay, and didn’t seem hurt… so I brought you here.”

“Rather than to a doctor,” Julian noted dully.

“I only know one doctor,” Charon said, in a tone that just might have been teasing. “And we just met.”

Julian had the wherewithal to know he was being made fun of. He was a little slower on the uptake to get the rest of the joke: he was a doctor. He was a doctor, this was (assuming he hadn’t been out for a week) a workday… and he was here.

And not in his office.

He choked on his next sip of tea, and Charon was immediately at his side, drawing the cup from his hand.

“Hey, hey, be careful…” He murmured. Julian was vaguely aware of him rubbing Julian’s back, his hand between Julian’s shoulder blades, but it was of secondary importance to Julian’s discovery.

“I-I have to go-” He pulled himself from Charon’s gentle grip. “M-my appointments-”

Julian leaned forward, trying to free himself from the blankets so he could get out of bed. Instead, a powerful wave of nausea swept through him, pulling all the colour from his face and making him collapse back. 

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep breaths. What he wanted to do was give in, to lay there, to forget… but he couldn’t do that.

So he opened his eyes, and tried again.

Or would have, if Charon didn’t press his hand to Julian’s chest.

“I have to go,” He said, trying to sound as firm and as  _ un _ malaised as possible. 

“You’re not well,” Charon said. “You can’t.”

“I m-”  _ I must _ , he meant to say, but Charon silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips.

“You nothing,” Charon said. His eyes were grey, Julian noticed, and he was  _ very _ close. “You can barely sit up, and you certainly can’t stand, how are you supposed to treat patients like this?” He didn’t raise his voice, but he demanded answers from Julian just the same, without letting him give them. Of course, they both  _ knew _ the answers.

“You can-” he continued, more gently, “If law and ability permit, tell me their names. I can try and have someone get in contact with them about rescheduling with you. But I’m not letting you leave like this, Doctor. You wouldn’t make it out the door.”

Julian sighed, his eyes falling closed as he reluctantly relaxed back into the bed.

Charon was right.

When it was clear that Julian wasn’t going to argue, Charon withdrew his hand.

“I’ll get something so you can write those names down, alright?” Charon’s touch lingered on his chest, fingertips light against the fabric of his shirt. “Just try and relax a little. You’re in for a rough day. No need to make it worse.”

Intellectually, Julian knew he was right. Emotionally, he didn’t like it. This was not his preferred method of being at a stranger’s mercy.

He laid there for a few moments as Charon dug around the room for some paper and a pen, and opened his eyes when he heard the man settle into the chair at his bedside. Alright. If this was all he could manage, he supposed it would have to be enough. He could be frustrated with himself later, when he had the strength for it.

This time, Julian sat up more carefully, running a hand through his already-tousled hair, fingers unconsciously looking for the strap of his eyepatch as not to dislodge it with the movement. He fumbled, for a minute, when he couldn’t feel it. It went on his right side, he had reached up with his left hand and-

He wasn’t wearing it.

“ _ Fuck- _ ” He hurried to cover his face, knowing it didn’t matter but unable to help himself all the same. “I- I’m not-” Not what, sick? He  _ was _ sick, just not with that. “It’s… it’s not-”

“Here,” Charon had grabbed his eyepatch from where it had been resting (on the damn bedside table the whole time, he realized, he just hadn’t noticed it) and pressed it into the hand that wasn’t hiding Julian’s face. Julian’s hands shook as he quickly pulled the eyepatch into place, and they didn’t stop shaking when it settled into its familiar position over his eye. He felt his stomach twist. Charon had  _ seen _ , he  _ knew _ , he-

“Doctor…” Charon knelt at the side of the bed, taking him by his shoulders. “Breathe, okay?” He coaxed gently. “It’s alright…”

Julian could only weakly do as he was asked. Even if he wanted to continue making a fuss, he didn’t have the strength. He still gripped his face, his hand over his eyepatch, as if by covering it more he could erase Charon having ever seen it. 

“I-I’m not c-contagious…” Julian managed. “It’s not… like that.”

It should have been no surprise that Charon wasn’t worried. After all, he’d known about it for hours now, hadn’t he? But it still  _ was _ surprising when Charon gave his shoulders a careful squeeze in his hands, trying to reassure him.

“It’s alright, doctor,” he said softly. “No one’s in danger. No need to panic. Everything is okay, really…”

Julian’s throat hurt. He hadn’t raised his voice, not by much, but the rollercoaster of emotions, his heart’s stupid tendency of jumping into his throat with every sudden reveal… And he was so tired. So tired.

Silence settled between them as Julian tried to collect himself. Charon stayed close, but didn’t speak up. 

“I-it’s a good thing I’m not contagious…” Julian noted softly. The tremors were subsiding, and his stomach was starting to settle again. There was nothing he could do about the exhaustion, though. “You’re…” he gestured vaguely to the room around them, “This isn’t proper containment procedure.”

Charon laughed quietly, withdrawing his hands. “Don’t you worry about that, Doctor. You’re safe, and I’m safe, too. Try to drink a little more of your tea, okay?”

The paper and pen had been knocked to the floor in his panic, and Charon retrieved them as Julian tried to do as he asked. 

“It came off last night as I was getting you into bed,” Charon explained. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Julian shook his head, sipping his tea, but didn’t answer. He wanted to tell the man that it was fine, that it had just been a mistake, but his heart was still pounding a little too fast and returning to the topic was a surefire recipe for disaster.

So, instead, after some tea and some grateful, steadier breaths, he held out his hand for the paper. In handwriting that was only a little shakier than usual, he wrote down the name of the appointments he could remember. That would have to be enough.

“I’ll see if I can’t get ahold of them for you,” Charon promised. “Try and get some rest? I’ll be back soon, and maybe we can get you something to eat.”

The idea of food was appealing, he was ravenous, but he was skeptical of his ability to eat anything. He should really drink more, too, at least finish his tea… But sitting up was exhausting. He set the teacup aside, lest he spill it. He’d try again once he’d gathered his strength.

Charon got to his feet, looking over the list Julian had handed him. By the time he looked up at Julian again, the man had fallen back asleep.


	2. One Good Turn (Deserves More Bad Choices)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being hungover is hard enough. Being so hungover that you trip over your own baggage is harder.

When he woke up later, the light was different, telling him he must have been asleep for some time. Charon was at his bedside, sitting in the chair. His book had been set aside, and instead he was busy with a needle and thread, mending something in his lap. The warm afternoon light gave the room a soft, quiet glow, and altogether it was a gentler wake-up than his one hours before.

“Charon…?” 

Charon’s face lit up when he saw that Julian was awake. 

“Hello again,” he said, his voice quiet. “How are you feeling?”

“Better…” Julian nodded. He was steadier now, and he felt more alive. Even breathing was easier.

That morning felt like a distant memory, but he still cringed, inwardly, remembering his actions. He would have preferred to handle himself better, but… it was too late now. 

Charon set his work aside, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Glad to hear it. This morning wasn’t exactly kind to you.”

Julian thought he’d have no trouble agreeing to that, but he thought of Charon coming in the door, sitting at his bedside, quiet and unflinchingly friendly the entire time Julian had been missing his eyepatch, and he discovered that his feelings were a great deal more mixed than he wanted to admit.

He merely nodded, and Charon’s expression was sympathetic.

“Feel well enough to eat something?” he asked.

“I should probably try…” Julian admitted reluctantly. He looked down at his hands, frowning. The quilted bedspread under his fingers was an ignored haze of color as he fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Make you a deal?” Charon reached out to him, laying a hand on the bedspread. It drew Julian’s gaze back to his face. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I can wash your clothes for you. I can probably lend you something-” He laughed lightly, “You’re… a lot taller than I am, but I think I have some clothes that will at least hold you over. Have a shower, and by then the food should be ready. I think that will help you feel better, don’t you?”

“A shower sounds…” Perfect. Heavenly, even. The superlatives stuck in his throat. “...nice.”

Charon stood, offering Julian his hands, and at least this time Julian didn’t flinch when he let Charon help him to his feet. He swayed, but didn’t fall.

“Progress,” Charon noted, smiling up at him. Julian was in a better position to notice that what Charon had pointed out was true: he was a good deal taller than the other man, and broader at the shoulder, too. Where in the world was Charon going to find something for him to wear?

But he supposed that wasn’t his question to answer.

“Don’t be afraid to lean on me if you need it, alright?” Charon offered. Even as he moved to open the door, he kept an arm extended to Julian in case the man fell. Thankfully, Julian didn’t think he’d need it.

“I think we’d both end up on the floor, in that case,” He noted, following where Charon led him. It earned him another laugh.

“I did manage to carry you in here,” He reminded him. Charon shot him a look back over his shoulder, but his expression was gentle, not insulted. “Don’t worry. You won’t hurt me.”

He led Julian to the bathroom. It was the same kind of quaint as the bedroom, small but tidy, one frosted-glass window filling the room with the same warm light. Julian leaned in the doorway, steadying himself, as Charon dug a towel out of the cupboard for him. 

“Take as long as you’d like,” he said, pressing the towel into Julian’s hands. “I’ll throw some clean clothes in here for you. Food should be ready when you’re out.”

Julian reflexively hugged the towel to his chest, not thinking much of it, and pressed himself closer to the side of the door so Charon could pass by him without obstruction.

With the blond out of his way, Julian stepped into the bathroom, rubbing his accessible eye with his hand. He was keenly aware of his own filthiness, now, the kind of post-drinking dirtiness that he was used to treating in the safety (and privacy) of his own home. He frowned to himself. Disgusting.

“Oh!”

It was Charon, behind him at the doorway, and Julian clumsily whirled, planting his hand against the wall with a little more force than he intended.

Charon, to his credit, did his best not to laugh at him.

“You don’t have any allergies, right?” He asked.

Oh. Fair question.

“No,” Julian shook his head. “None.”

“Alright,” Charon smiled. “I’ll leave you alone for real, now.” And to make certain he would, he closed the door behind himself. 

The shower was, in short, everything Julian hoped for. The hot water and soap helped him scrub away any of the remnants of his bad decisions (at least, his most recent ones), and it cleared his head a little, too. The soap was faintly scented, something clean and flowery, and he recognized it immediately as what Charon had smelled like when he helped Julian sit up that morning. 

His one moment of upset was when the door cracked open and Charon’s voice called out to him, saying he was just bringing him clothes. The curtain between them was heavy enough that Julian didn’t fear any indecency, but he relaxed when the door was closed again just the same.

The shower was so warm, and so blessedly quiet, that he had trouble making himself leave. His fingers were pruned by the time he made his peace with turning the water off, and he wrapped himself in the towel, sitting on the edge of the bath, feeling his hair drip down his face and back.

He felt a lot better. His head still hurt a little, faintly, but that was probably dehydration. He should, for his own good, get dressed and have something to eat… but he still hesitated. Like a hazy dream or distant nightmare, he kept replaying the morning’s events in his mind. Maybe it shouldn’t have affected him so profoundly, but it did. Memories of the plague were seared into his very being, inexorably part of not just his appearance but… his everything.

_ It’s alright, _ Charon had said, returning his eye patch to him. That same eyepatch that had been mindfully left when he came by to take Julian’s clothes

_ It’s alright. _

He didn’t know if Charon was reckless, or just an idiot, but he couldn’t quite believe either of those things.

Julian got dressed, pulling his eyepatch back into place, and found that the clothes that Charon had left for him fit well enough. At least until his own were clean, they would do fine.

He hung the towel on an empty hook, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hall.

Of course, nothing alarming greeted him. The same quiet apartment. The distant sounds of Charon in what, he assumed, was the kitchen. 

He felt strange in the ill-fitting clothes, and his feet scarcely made a sound as he followed the turn in the hallway that led him to the kitchen. Quiet or not, Charon didn’t take long to notice him.

“I bet that feels a lot better,” he said. He was wiping his hands on a dishcloth, so he pushed out one of the chairs at the table with his foot, nodding for Julian to sit. The table was wood, and had probably once been rather nice, but now was showing its wear along its edges and legs. It only sat two, but that hardly seemed strange when everything in the house was on the diminutive side.

Much like his host, really.

Hands dried, Charon was quick to grab him a glass of water, without asking or being asked, and Julian dutifully sipped at it while Charon finished getting things ready.

“It’s leftovers, but it’s pretty good, I promise,” Charon set a bowl of something in front of him, something with meat and rice and frankly, Julian didn’t care what it was, it smelled delicious. Charon sat down across from him, brushing gossamer strands of blond over his shoulder before he started to eat.

Silence fell between them, not particularly uncomfortable, and Julian found his first bite of food to be a little hot but otherwise just as delicious as it smelled, and it took everything within his power to stop from devouring the lot of it. He thought that the tentative truce he’d struck with the rest of his body wouldn’t be too pleased about that.

“So…” Charon said eventually, looking across the table at him, “What were you drinking? Must have been some pretty strong paint-thinner to leave you in the road like that.”

Julian breathed out a laugh. Well, that was one way to put it.

“Just alcohol,” Julian shook his head. “Nothing… nothing worse than that.”

“Doesn’t need to be worse, clearly,” Charon joked quietly.

If this (comparatively gentle) teasing was his tax to pay for being so foolish, he’d gladly pay it. It seemed a small cost in comparison to Charon’s kindness. Even being teased, there was something peaceful here. Maybe it was because Julian didn’t know where he was, but Charon’s little home seemed disconnected from the world at large. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not anymore.

“Do you regularly pull strangers out of the street?” Julian asked in turn.

“Not usually for free, no,” Charon smiled at him. “You’re a special case.”

If Julian blushed, it was surely because of the heat of the food, and nothing else.

“Did you manage to get in touch with any of my patients?” He asked instead.

Charon nodded, pausing to swallow his bite of food before answering. “Yes, all but one! Told them you weren’t feeling so well. For the most part, everyone was pretty amenable to it.” It was clear the news please Charon, too.

He breathed a genuine sigh of relief. It had been foolish and selfish of him to overindulge like that. He had expected to be working hungover the next morning, not to miss work entirely. He would have to be a little more careful, if only because people were counting on him.

“I… should probably leave after this,” he said quietly. “I appreciate your kindness, but…” He pushed the last remnants of his meal around with his fork, and as before, Charon reached out to him to get his attention. Unlike before, there was nothing in the way of his touch, and he laid his fingers lightly on Julian’s arm.

Julian’s single, hazel eye flicked up to meet Charon’s grey ones.

“One more night,” Charon said, quiet but firm. “Your clothes are still drying, and you’re still recovering. There’s a bed here with your name on it, and you can be up and out the door tomorrow in time to meet whoever your first appointment is.”

Charon’s serious expression faded to a smile, “Give me the chance to make you breakfast. Please?”

Julian thought that those words, that such an invitation, seemed fitting to a much different scenario. But he realized, with carefully neutral feelings, that he’d never heard them spoken in that way, either.

“If you insist,” he conceded.

Charon looked quite pleased. 

“Did you want seconds?” Charon asked, looking over and seeing his bowl empty.

Julian shook his head. “It was very good, but… it’s probably better that I don’t risk it.”

Charon nodded, and finished up the last of his own food so he could collect their dishes. “Let me know if you get hungry later though, alright?” He asked. “I can always warm some more up.”

“I…” Julian wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t sure he could reliably promise Charon that he would do it.

Before he could summon up a diplomatic answer (clearly, part of him was still hungover, no matter how much better he felt), Charon had stacked his dishes in one hand and come back to Julian’s side, laying his hand on his arm again. If that was his means of drawing Julian from the mire of his thoughts, Julian did not mind it so terribly. 

“It’s okay. I’ll offer again later, alright?” He smiled at him. Against Julian’s porcelain-pale skin, Charon’s skin was sunkissed, and looked so much more alive.

“Alright,” Julian nodded. He could agree to that, at least.

“Go on,” Charon nodded him off. “There’s books to read, and other trouble to get into. Go take it easy.”

Being banished to go read was hardly a prison sentence he couldn’t endure, and as Charon did dishes, Julian poked around in the living room, and in the room he had stayed in. While he was in the shower, Charon must have stripped the bed to clean that too. The sheets were different.

Charon had all kinds of books, most of them worn and well-loved. Fiction, nonfiction, adventure and romance and history and an eclectic collection of other things.

And lots of books about plants. 

Julian grabbed a book on flowers, not expecting that he’d glean much of use out of it, but… it would be nice to relax, and to look at something so lovely.

He crawled back onto the bed and settled down against the pillows to read. Like the kitchen, the bedroom had that same strange sense of disconnect. He didn’t think he was in danger, Charon had had adequate time to be nefarious if he had so desired, so the quiet was oddly comforting, rather than unsettling. The bed was soft, the sunlight was warm...

It really was quite nice.

He wasn’t sad when his quiet was broken, though, and Charon knocked on his half-open door before peeking inside.

His face did what it usually did, brightening into an almost-surprised smile, when he saw that Julian was awake. 

“I brought your clothes,” he said, stepping into the room with precisely what he said, Julian recognizing the items folded in his arms. He set them on an empty chair, and when he turned to say something else to Julian, he lost his words when he saw the book still held in one of his hands.

“Oh, that’s a good choice,” Charon stepped closer to the bed. “You… like flowers?”

Julian hesitated, but to his credit, it was only for a moment. “Yes… A lot of them can be used for medicine, you know.”

“I  _ do _ know,” Charon said, laughing that airy laugh of his. “But, I mean, I couldn’t tell you  _ which _ medicine, I’m not that well-versed.” He came to lean against the side of the bed, tilting his head at Julian. “But… that’s not a medicine book.” Charon tapped his fingers on the cover, knowingly.

“Are there flowers you just...like?” Charon asked. “Not for their medicinal properties. Just… because you like them?”

“Actually, yes,” Julian said, drawing the book close again so he could flip through the pages. “It’s… this one.”

“Aconite!” Charon exclaimed, looking at the purple flowers Julian was pointing to. “That’s poison!” 

His reaction surprised a laugh out of Julian, a quiet but earnest chuckle. Hearing him laugh made Charon laugh, too, covering his mouth with one delicate hand.

“Wolfsbane, yes,” Julian nodded. “I… they’re pretty.” Perhaps not an eloquent reason, but an honest one. At the very least, Charon didn’t seem put off by his answer. 

“Dangerous, but beautiful, yes,” Charon agreed, leaning a little closer to look at the image in Julian’s hands. “Pity, though… I certainly can’t sell those.”

“You’re a florist?” Julian asked. He supposed Charon looked the part, with his cheerful disposition and gentle mannerisms. 

“Not exactly,” Charon said, smiling. “But I sell flowers, sometimes. I think I’d like to be a florist…”

He sighed, and it sounded… almost wistful.

“How about a cup of tea?” He offered, brightening. “Nothing goes better with a good book than a nice cup of tea.”

Julian gripped the book a little tighter in his hands, but he nodded. “I’d like that.”

It could be hard to admit those things, Julian found. It was so small an idea, that Charon might make tea for him, for them both, but he could not help the strangely vulnerable feeling that accompanied saying  _ yes _ . Being the person being taken care of was a difficult task.

“Excellent.” Charon laid his hand on Julian’s knee, lingering there a moment before hopping to his feet. “I think I could use a cup myself.”

Julian watched him leave, watched him brush his ponytail back over his shoulder in a confident, thoughtless motion, and he raised an eyebrow in interest when Charon stopped short in the doorway.

“Did you want anything to eat?” Charon asked, just like he promised. Julian thought he would have forgotten.

And though Julian declined, he had answered honestly.

Charon returned a little while later with a cup of tea for him and maybe it was no surprise that, now that Julian was adequately fed and watered, he was tired again. He curled up with the book, and at some point he pulled the blankets over his legs. Outside, the last of the light faded, and Julian faded with it.

Maybe it was that he was sleeping in a strange place, or that he was upset with missing work… but Julian thought that trying to write off his nightmares to such mundane sources was a pretty flimsy excuse. If it was something so simple, he’d never have them alone.

But the fact of the matter was that he did, and that alone in Charon’s apartment, he had one that night.

He thrashed, fighting against the sheets, trapped and sweating, shuddering in the sudden cold. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how much he gasped or struggled. It wasn’t enough.

When something jerked him awake he was frozen, locked up in fear, utterly lost as to where, and when, he was.

“Doctor…?” Charon had him by the shoulders, his face lit in soft relief by the lamp on the bedside table. 

Julian’s hand reflexively pressed to his face, making sure his eyepatch was in place. Even shaking and soaked in sweat, that wasn’t a mistake he’d make twice.

“It’s alright,” Charon said, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright…”

Julian took a shuddering breath, swallowing the acid in his throat. He knew this place. He knew the man looking up at him with worried eyes.

The nightmare was over. He was awake.

So why couldn’t he stop shaking?

“Did… did I wake you?” He asked.

Charon released him then, but didn’t draw his hands away. They laid on the worn bedspread, close enough to touch, if Julian was so bold.

“No, no…” Charon reassured. “Nothing like that. I just… I remembered how sick you were last night, so I thought I’d check up on you. I’m glad I did.”

Julian, torn between crushing shame and dizzying relief, didn’t answer. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water?” Charon offered quietly. “And then… if you want to talk about it, we can. Okay?”

At least that was a question he didn’t have to think about the answer to. 

Charon wasn’t gone long, dutifully returning with the promised drink. Julian couldn’t pretend to not be grateful for that, and he drained it in one long motion.

“I’m.. sorry,” He said. Sometimes it was easier to say that than it was to say  _ thank you _ , even if he meant both of them sincerely. “I keep making trouble for you…”

“Nonsense…” Charon shook his head. “You haven’t been trouble. Not for an instant…”

A lie, of course… but it was sweet of him, just the same.

Charon was rather sweet, he thought. Cheerful, and soft, and… He thought of earlier, of Charon’s finger against his lips, and he shivered.

It drew another concerned look from Charon, but Julian didn’t address it, not directly. He had something of an idea. Not a  _ good _ idea, no, not by any usual metric, but, if he could repay Charon, and get his mind off his nightmare, and maybe not have to fall asleep alone…

He set his glass aside, and with a courage that he didn’t feel but was easily faked, he laid his hands over Charon’s, smoothing his touch up the man’s forearms. That he was so inviting to touch only made Julian’s choice all the easier.

“I  _ could _ be trouble, if you like,” he invited. It was a foolproof plan, surely. He knew just what to say, he knew how to smile. He dragged his touch down again, tracing his fingertips over the lines of his arms, the shape of his hands. When he felt Charon shiver under his touch, he thought he was surely on the right track.

Maybe they could both get what they wanted out of this.

Charon’s expression was questioning, but not shy. There was… a certainty there, a sureness, and surely that was what made Julian’s heart skip a beat, not any leftover fear. He didn’t mind when his heart raced like this. This was  _ always  _ preferable.

“It’s already late… we could stay up a little later?” He smiled. “I promise, I’ll still get to work on time~”   
He’d be tired as hell, but it would be worth it.

“Alright,” Charon said softly, getting up from where he was kneeling. His hair was undone, liquid gold in the lamplight, and with a practised roguish grin, Julian shifted over in the bed, pulling back the blankets to make room for him. 

Charon climbed in next to him, leaning back against the pillows, and Julian had a moment of doubt, unsure what to do, unsure what Charon  _ wanted  _ him to do, until Charon opened his arms, beckoning him closer. Julian’s sigh of relief was genuine as he slotted himself close to Charon’s body, letting the smaller man wrap his arms around him, settling down against his chest.

Ah, but it was warm here, and he was so tired…

He tried to push those thoughts away, and pressed a heated kiss against Charon’s open collar, thrilling at the feel of his soft skin under Julian’s lips. Perhaps it was cruel of him to use Charon to drive the last vestiges of his nightmare away, but… he’d more than adequately reward him. 

Charon breathed out a shaking breath, burying his fingers in Julian’s hair. Careful of the man’s eyepatch, Charon carded his fingers through the red curls, slow and rhythmic and…

Julian sighed, tension running from his shoulders. Charon’s fingers in his hair felt wonderful, and he could hear Charon’s heartbeat, steady and quiet in his ear. 

He’d get up in a moment. Charon seemed to have liked those kisses, so he’d do more... And then, of course, whatever else Charon wanted, he’d give. He could do that.

In a moment, though.

As Charon stroked Julian’s hair, he fell back to sleep.    



	3. Not So Bitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes 'see you later' really doesn't mean goodbye.

Without the alcohol in his system, Julian could pretty reliably be counted on to wake up in time for work. He had mentioned to Charon what time he needed to leave by, so he had no fear that he would be late. That was definitely the reason he slept so well, the lack of poison in his blood and the assurance that the day would be so much better.

It probably wasn’t because he spent the night in Charon’s arms. 

Probably.

He woke gently, warm and with natural sleep-stiffness, nothing like the sickness of the day before. Thoughtlessly, he nuzzled his cheek against the soft fabric of Charon’s shirt, making a quiet, pleased sound when he felt Charon’s touch on him. That Charon’s initial, half-asleep response was to rub Julian’s back was nothing short of adorable.

For a few quiet moments, Julian was nearly blissful.

Then his senses kicked in and he realized the gravity of what was going on.

Charon was in his bed. Or, he was in  _ Charon’s _ bed, but regardless, they were both there and, mortifyingly, they were both clothed.

What had happened last night?

Julian flushed with shame, his face heating, his fingers gripping Charon’s shirt a little more tightly. He’d gone to bed, then… the nightmare. He shivered just thinking about it, and had to shove it away, lest his thoughts try to all too clearly remind him. Then, he’d tried (and obviously succeeded) to convince Charon into bed with him and then…  _ he fell asleep _ .

His skin crawled with embarrassment. How could he have screwed that up? And now he was-

“Mmm, good morning…”

Charon was awake, blinking calm, sleepy eyes down at him. He sighed, one hand still idly tracing over Julian’s back, fingertips drawing gentle, thoughtless patterns, and he smiled tiredly.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Y-yes…” Julian shrunk against him, blushing darkly, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. 

“That’s good,” Charon nodded. “Me too.” He smiled then, and his touch slowed to a stop. Julian wished it would continue. “How about that breakfast I promised you?”

What kind of a mess was he? He wanted to get out of bed, to pretend that this hadn’t happened, that Charon had never seen his nightmare, that Julian hadn’t failed to live up to his end of the bargain…

“Are you alright…?” Charon shifted, drawing one of his hands up so he could reach for Julian more properly, brushing the back of his fingers against Julian’s cheek. That he’d still reach for him after Julian had been such a disappointment was a little hard to think about right now.

“Just tired,” Julian said, unable to stop himself from pressing closer to Charon’s touch. It wasn’t a complete lie. He  _ was _ tired, and Charon was so gentle with him...

“We have a little time before you have to get going,” Charon said softly. “We don’t have to rush.”

His fingers brushed through Julian’s hair, and Julian’s next exhale was accompanied by a shudder. 

“Just… a few minutes,” he conceded, and Charon made a pleased sound.

“I’d like that, too.”

It felt like the most selfish of indulgences, but if it meant Charon kept touching him like that, Julian knew that he would somehow endure it. He managed not to fall asleep again, and he also managed not to die of shame.    
That might get a little harder when he was alone, but everything did.

Charon’s fingers carded through his hair, smoothed over his shoulders, traced unreadable cyphers on his back, idle shapes that Julian couldn’t read and didn’t try to. He lay half-melted against the smaller man, who didn’t seem to mind. Eventually, however, Charon gently roused him.

“Come on,” he said, and stroked his thumb over Julian’s cheek. “You should shower, and I’ll make some coffee.”

It would be hard to pry himself away, but for coffee… Julian just might be able to do it.

He got cleaned up, and it was remarkable how good it felt to pull his own clothes on again. His gloves, especially, made him feel more composed. He wasn’t sure what it was about Charon that brought the worst out in him, but it was undeniable that he did. It would be a relief to get back to business as usual.

Except, of course, for the parts of that where he was lying.

“Coffee’s ready!”

Charon’s cheerful voice drew him from his thoughts and Julian, looking much more himself, followed the sound of it back to the familiar sight of Charon’s kitchen.

“I don’t know what you take in it, but I figured you could use some,” Charon said, nodding to the cup of coffee on the table. “Food’s almost ready, too.”

“I thought tea was your preference,” Julian noted idly. He would have helped Charon, but no sooner had he stepped into the room than did the other man dismiss him to the table with a carefree flick of his hand. 

“For hangovers,” Charon shot him a teasing smile, “Or late at night. But you looked like you needed a coffee, and I like it, too.”

Julian didn’t mind being teased so much when there wasn’t an audience. Alone with Charon, it didn’t sting. Charon sat down moments later, gently shoving a plate of food to Julian’s side of the table.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost off your case,” Charon pointed out, and Julian smiled faintly. 

“Your pressure isn’t so hard to bear,” Julian teased in return, trying to keep his smile from being seen. If it was just this, the quiet moments they had spent eating together, he’d have little to worry about. 

But he couldn’t forget everything else. Charon’s finger against his lips, his heartbeat under Julian’s ear… A night where they had slept together, but nothing else.

He tried to keep his mind on his breakfast, lest Charon notice his blush.

… He’d seen worse, though, truthfully.

“Do you have work today?” Julian asked him.

“Not until tonight,” Charon said.  _ I was on my way home from work,  _ he’d said to Julian. That was when he’d seen Julian face-down in the road. 

Naturally, the implications of that weren’t lost on him. “Then… I cost you a night of work, it seems.” Charon had been so kind to him that the cost of that kindness hadn’t occurred to Julian until that moment. 

“Nothing to fear,” Charon waved him off. “I’m not so hard done by. One night off work won’t get me in trouble.”

“I’m glad.” Julian had asked enough of him, and his one meagre attempt at repaying him (Julian’s own selfishness aside) hadn’t worked out the way he had planned. 

“I’m hoping, though…” And was that hesitancy Julian heard in his voice? Charon had been nothing but confident until now. “That next time we cross paths, I won’t be pulling you out of the road.”

“Not on a worknight, at least.”

“Doctor.”

Julian froze, his cup half-way raised, and looked across the table to see Charon looking at him with a serious expression. Whatever shyness he had been feeling must have fled in the short second between statements.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Charon said quietly. “But I can ask you, please, for my sanity, to try not to do that again. What if I take a different road home, and don’t see you?”

There were a lot of assumptions going on in that sentence, but Julian found he really wasn’t against most of them. There was nothing threatening or sharp in Charon’s eyes, no sign that he was  _ upset _ or that Julian had somehow misstepped.

Just the unflinching certainty that had, in short order, become his trademark.

Julian swallowed.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, nodding. 

“I’d be grateful,” Charon said, easygoing once more. “And your patients would be too, probably.”

He had a point. Julian only nodded again. 

When they finished eating, Charon swept the dishes away, but didn’t start them yet. “I’ll see you out first, before worrying about them. After all, you have places to be.”

Julian’s boots were at the door, and he pulled them on with little struggle. Charon offered him a hand to keep his balance, which he quietly declined… until he stumbled and, laughing, Charon had to help him up.

“Now you’re just rubbing it in,” Charon looked up at him, smiling. Julian was another inch or two taller, thanks to the boots, and practically towered over Charon. Judging by Charon’s laughter, it didn’t bother him at all.

“I promise, it’s not on purpose,” Julian said, managing to tease him a little in return. There was something satisfying indeed about being able to make Charon smile.

Charon pulled his jacket from the closet, and then came the part that neither of them relished: the leaving.

“I really can’t thank you enough…” Julian said quietly, standing in Charon’s doorway, finally having to say it in case he didn’t get another chance. “You very well might have saved my life.” If someone else had found him, well… the ending might not have been so kind.

“That’s usually your job, isn’t it, Doctor?” Charon asked. He was smiling, but when he saw the way Julian hastily looked down, his smile faded.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized softly. “I… I do hope to see you again. Under less dire circumstances.”

Julian could feel the sun on his back, warming him through his jacket. Charon stood in his shadow, leaning in the doorway, looking up at him with a quiet, hopeful expression. If not for his previous remarks to the contrary, Julian might have been tempted to try it all again, hoping to get the same result.

But he’d said he wouldn’t.

“I’d like that,” Julian nodded. 

Charon smiled. This one wasn’t teasing, but warm and genuine and really rather pretty. “Go on, don’t keep them waiting,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

Julian hoped he meant it, maybe even a little more than he hoped he didn’t. 


	4. Flowers, but not from a Florist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets not one new visitor, but two.

It was a relief to get back to work, to what was known and knowable, to the familiar walls of his office and familiar faces of his patients. As long as he had someone complaining in front of him, he was fine.

The instant they left, he was thinking about sunlight haloed off of blond hair, and cursing under his breath.

Another cup of coffee didn’t solve the problem. Nor did a third. 

Or a fourth.

Sometimes, when he was sitting at his desk, taking notes on one thing or another, he’d take a breath and be suddenly wrapped in that scent again, as faint and powerful as a daydream. It took him literally all day to realize he wasn’t imagining it: it was  _ him _ . Charon had washed his clothes, and now they smelled like Charon, like Charon’s home.

Once he knew the source, well… then there was nothing to stop him from deliberately indulging, as long as there were no patients present.

And maybe he stayed up too late catching up on missed correspondence and writing things to reach out to the patients he had missed the day before. And maybe it was because he stayed up so late that he slept in his clothes. Maybe the way they smelled had nothing to do with it.

And maybe, laying in bed, he thought of someone’s fingers in his hair.

But there was no way to prove that.

The mundane tragedy of it all was that when he woke up, his shirt had gone back to smelling like him again, and he was left with just the memory of Charon’s touch.

Julian had read about the psychological effects of going without touch, although it had been a long time since he’d cracked open those books. Surely this wasn’t anything that profound. He wasn’t touchstarved, he was just… looking for a distraction. That was it. It must have been.

He had his coffee in his office, opening up shop a little earlier than he otherwise might have. The distraction of other people’s problems was very appealing today. So he sat, drink in hand, reading over some work, hoping for someone to come in the door.

And someone did.

His attention snapped up, assuming it must have been someone in need for them to come bounding in the door as they had, but the kid who had come running in didn’t seem to be in distress. 

“Good morning,” Julian said, getting to his feet. “Can I help you with something?”

The boy wasn’t yet a teenager, with dark curls of hair and striking blue eyes, and he fixed Julian with a long, unflinching look.

Julian didn’t think anything of it: he was a child, he was potentially in distress, and Julian was an adult. That he was mistrustful was probably safer than the opposite.

He softened his tone. “What is it? I’ll try my best to help.”

The boy hesitated, and Julian thought he’d answer. But then, just as quickly as he’d come in, he dashed back out the door again. Worried for him, Julian followed, opening the door to see where he’d gone, but he had already vanished. There was no sign of him.

Well, that was… strange.

He sighed and went back inside to his coffee. Julian tried to write it off as a prank, and not as him  _ scaring a literal child  _ out of his office. He felt terrible about it, and was grateful when his appointments started to turn up. 

Julian liked his work. Loved it, in fact. Most of the problems people came to him for were mundane: colds, chronic pain, accidental injury. They weren’t challenging issues, not in themselves. The challenge was always in understanding his patients, making sure he heard them as they needed to be heard, so he could treat them as they needed to be treated. Little in life was as rewarding as the look of relief when he told someone that he could help them, whether it was as simple as healing a wound, or making a plan for something that wasn’t so easily fixed.

He cherished those moments. Even distracted as he was, hoping against hope for a familiar face to walk through the door, he still enjoyed his work deeply.

It was a few days later when he was finishing up with another patient, merely walking them through when and how to take their medicine, when someone he couldn’t immediately place stepped in the front door. He thought nothing of it at first, quietly telling them that he’d be with them in a moment. Outside it was grey and raining, so that they had the hood of their cloak up was no surprise.

What Julian recognized was when they spoke up, a soft and cheerful, “Let me get that for you,” as they opened the door for the elderly woman who was leaving. 

Even without seeing his face, Julian knew.

But of course, Charon turned to him and smiled, and whatever greeting Julian was going to give dried up in his mouth.

He hadn’t been misremembering. Charon really was that pretty.

… but he’d also come to see Julian at work.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Julian asked, without thinking. Realizing that he’d just blurted it out, he was caught between saying something better or trying to explain himself, Julian scrambled to make amends, “I just, I mean-”

“Just missed you.” Charon cut through his worry so easily, and then hefted what he was holding in his arms. “I brought you some flowers.”

Previously hidden by his cloak, Charon held a basket of flowers in his arms. There were blooms of many colours, but Julian spotted a collection of purple flowers tied with twine. He smiled.

“Not wolfsbane,” He noted, amused. He hoped his blush was fading, but remembering that Charon had come here, in the rain, to bring him flowers meant that it was soon back in full force.

“I told you I can’t bring that to you, Doctor.” Charon laughed softly. “But… I thought they were pretty, and today was so gloomy. I hoped they might be close enough to make you smile.”

“You know…” Julian said, feeling how cold Charon’s hands were as he handed Julian the bouquet. “It’s… not necessary to call me that.”

Charon shifted his basket in his arms. “You don’t work so hard for people not to call you ‘doctor’,” he pointed out.

“Most of those people haven’t saved my life.” For lack of a container within reach for the blooms, he held them close, and Charon looked at him with an expression he found he couldn't name. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. 

“Julian, then…” Charon smiled. “I’d be honoured.”

He’d find a place for the flowers in a moment, but he didn’t want to step away, even for something so quick. Charon brushed his hood back from his face, dripping crystalline drops of water into his hair. He didn’t seem to notice them.

“You know…” Charon rubbed his hands together to ward off their chill. “I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find you again. I realized, when you left, that I never asked where you practiced.” He looked sheepish. “And I don’t know Vesuvia very well at all. But you’re an easy man to find.”

“Is that good or bad?” Julian wondered, curious. 

“Good,” Charon answered without hesitation. “Anyone I asked, ‘excuse me, I’m looking for a man about so tall, doctor, remarkably sweet’... they all said ‘yes, we know him’.” Charon took a step nearer to him, shifting so that his broad basket rested at his hip, no longer separating them. “I’m just… I felt so foolish. But I’m glad they were so helpful.”

_ Remarkably sweet _ , Charon called him. That people had agreed with him, apparently, was something else, but he sure had a talent for making Julian blush.

“I’m grateful, too,” Julian said, perhaps a bit too earnest. “Are you… really working in this weather?” And then, with a soft, skeptical look, “I thought you said you weren’t a florist?”

Charon laughed. “I didn’t  _ grow _ these~” He teased. “I cut them this morning, before the rain, and before the day got so cold. If I don’t sell them… they won’t last.” He looked down at the flowers he carried, a little wistful. “But I’ve sold a few. It’s so grey out. I hope they bring people a little happiness.”

“I should pay you for these, then,” Julian said, meaning the flowers in his hand. “If they’re your livelihood.” In this, he felt no embarrassment and looked to Charon quite seriously. He understood that they were meant as a gift, but if Charon was suffering out in the wet and the chill, Julian could afford to pay.

“You should absolutely not do that,” Charon protested and if Julian leaned in closer, just a little bit, when Charon laid a hand on his arm, then maybe neither of them noticed. “They’re a gift. I… picked them with you in mind.”

They were the only purple ones, he noticed. The others in the basket were all white, and yellow. Charon had said that he couldn’t, maybe wouldn’t, bring him wolfsbane, for which Julian couldn’t truly complain (he wouldn’t want Charon to be near the stuff). But that he’d try to find something close… it was sweet of him.

“Can I at least make you a cup of coffee?” Julian offered. “Your hands are cold…” He laid his gloved hand over where Charon’s rested on his arm, hoping it could provide him with at least a little warmth.

“I shouldn’t stay,” Charon said, stroking his thumb over Julian’s arm. Julian could feel it through the crisp white of his own shirt. “I’m sure you have other appointments. I’d hate to keep you from them.”

Julian sighed. He thought he could, probably, spare the time to have coffee with him, but the idea of ushering him out so he could focus on his next appointment wasn’t appealing either. He could understand Charon’s reluctance.

“Perhaps… are you free later tonight?” Julian asked, brightening a little. “When my office is closed, sometimes I stop by the Rowdy Raven. I’d love the company, if you’d like?”

Charon’s touch shifted, his hand turning palm-up so he could give Julian’s hand a gentle squeeze. He seemed cheered by Julian’s offer, smiling up at him again.

“I’d love to,” he said. “But… you’ll have to tell me where it is. Somehow I don’t think I can ask for it the same way I asked for you.”

Julian laughed. The idea of Charon, who seemed so distant from that world, asking for directions to the Raven was a little funny. He could only imagine the looks he’d get.

But he finally had an excuse to draw Charon a little deeper into his office, and he set the flowers in a vase with some water, and explained to him how to get to the Raven. Charon recited it back to him before he left, just to make sure he understood.

“After dinner,” Charon nodded. “I’ll be there.”

He pulled his hood back up, deep green against the gold of his hair, the pink of his cheeks. The room was warm, so there was no reason for him to be flush from the cold.

Was he blushing? Julian couldn’t help but smile.

“Try to stay warm,” Julian said. “I’d hate to see you back here with a cold.”

  
“Might be worth it.” Charon winked at him, laughing. “See you tonight!”


	5. A Gift From Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian takes his new friend to his favourite bar. He's not sure how the two will get along.

Julian wasn’t sure if Charon was going to show up. 

The Rowdy Raven was as familiar to him as his own home, the low warm light and wooden furnishings as welcoming as they had ever been. He was two drinks in, enjoying himself even alone… though he was hardly alone, here. The bar’s many regulars were happy to see him as they always were, and he was glad to see them just the same.

He ordered his third drink, but hesitated to start it. He was already feeling the effects of the first two, and when Charon came…

If Charon came.

He didn’t want to be too far gone.

Julian took his third drink a little slower.

“I am  _ so _ sorry I’m late.”

Julian smiled even before he turned, unable to help himself. There was Charon, despite all his fears, and Julian stood up from his chair to greet him. He set his drink on the table, and Charon started to say something, presumably about what had kept him, but he was bumped into from behind, knocking him into Julian.

Charon gasped, grabbing him so as not to fall, and Julian wrapped an arm around him to keep him upright. The woman who had inadvertently shoved him  _ did _ apologize, throwing a quick ‘sorry!’ back over her shoulder, and Julian sighed.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, looking down at Charon. “But it can get a little… rough, in here.”

“It’s in the name,” Charon said, his smile not dimmed even a little bit. “I’m not hurt.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” Julian asked. A glance at the bartender showed his offer to be equal parts kindness and pragmatism. The bar was busy, and Charon was… Charon.

“What are you drinking?” Charon asked.

Julian immediately shook his head, “I’m not getting you one of those.”

Charon frowned, softly petulant. “Why not?”

“Because they’re disgusting,” Julian said, so offhanded and casual that Charon had to laugh, curling in closer to him as he did. Julian’s arm was still around him.

“Get me something not disgusting, then,” he said, reaching for some money before Julian shook his head. Charon laughed again.

“Alright, well, the next round is on me.”

He sat, taking in the sights as Julian ordered, and did that thing he did, brightening and sitting up a little taller, when Julian returned.

“How was work?” Charon asked him when he returned, and thanked him for the drink. 

“Same as ever,” Julian shrugged good-naturedly, looking more at ease in his chair than Charon had ever seen him. Julian thought of telling him about the strange occurrence with the boy, but decided not to. There really wasn’t that much to tell.

“I hope no one gives you a hard time,” Charon said, sipping his drink. “I know that people in distress aren’t always the most thoughtful.”

Charon was right, at least right enough that Julian had experienced what he meant, but he shook his head just the same. “No, no. For the most part, my patients give me little trouble. I’ve practiced here for a few years now, so they know me… and I know them.”

“That’s wonderful,” Charon rested his head in his hand, looking over at Julian. “That you can have that with them. I’m sure it makes their life a lot easier, too. It can be hard to build that kind of relationship.”

“It’s worth the work,” Julian noted, quiet but content. “Always is.”

Charon gave him that look again, the unreadable one from the office. Julian found that he didn’t dislike it, though. It wasn’t judging or unhappy. Just… oddly thoughtful.

“You’ve been here for a few years, you’ve said?” Charon asked. “But you’re not from here?”

  
Julian downed his drink, grimaced, and shook his head. Still, the sharp, shudder-inducing flavour of it did little to dampen his mood. “From Vesuvia, yes. From the city, no. I moved here a few years ago. I think of home, sometimes, but… Here is home now, and that doesn’t make me unhappy.” His office, the Raven, Mazelinka’s place. There were other parts of the city he’d rather not think about, but there were so many places that were home to him, now. He was grateful for them.

“I think it suits you,” Charon said. 

Julian smiled, “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

It won him a laugh, and Charon’s hand on his arm.

“I  _ like _ it here. I meant it as a compliment,” Charon insisted. Julian chuckled.

“But you’re not from around here, either,” Julian remembered. “You said you didn’t know the city well.”

Charon shook his head. “No, I’m from Callay. From Highwyn, I mean.”

Julian tilted his glass in his hand, looking idly at the way the remnants of his drink clung to the bottom. “You’ve come a long way… An arduous trek.”

“Mhm,” Charon nodded. “Came looking for work. Found it, too. If I can… I’d like to stay. Here,” he motioned with his glass to Julian. “Have some.”

“I can get another,” he said. “I just… don’t want to get up.” Not that he ever had any trouble being noticed at the bar, but the bar was over there, and Charon was  _ here _ .

“Then help me with mine.” Charon shifted closer, setting his glass between them. Truly, so pressured and hard done by, Julian sighed, then smiled, and took a drink.

“Do you miss home?” Julian asked him, and Charon shrugged.

“Sometimes. There’s not much to miss about Callay, mountains and cold and churches-” Charon’s laugh wasn’t without its fondness though. “But I worked in one of the bigger port towns for a while, and… sometimes I miss watching the sun on the water. You know. Little things like that.”

“A feeling I can well understand.” Julian nodded. 

He liked this. Not that he had specifically  _ disliked _ his encounters with Charon before, far from it, but the strange man had a unique habit for catching Julian flat-footed. Being able to genuinely relax in his presence was… really lovely, Julian thought.

“I never asked  _ you _ -” Julian realized, looking at Charon again, “How the remainder of your day had gone. Were you alright, in that nasty afternoon weather?”

“I’m hardier than I look.” Charon feigned offence but it was short-lived, and soon he was smiling again. “It wasn’t so bad. The rain stopped after a little while. Kept the flowers looking nice, though,” He admitted with a bit of a laugh.

Julian thought of the purple blooms that crowned his desk, and he smiled.

“Ah, what luck-” Charon drained the rest of his drink. “Guess it’s my turn to brave the bar.”

“Nonsense.” Julian reached out for him this time, his gloved hand over Charon’s. “I insist.”

“But you’ll let me pay for them?” Effortlessly, Charon turned his hand to hold Julian’s, and Julian felt his heart jump. It was so easy for him to do that. Between his easy, affectionate nature and quiet, firm insistence, he tripped Julian up so easily.

“W-well…”

“Please?” Charon looked up at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Julian swallowed.

“Alright.”

Charon dug out some money for him, and waited as patiently as he could for his return.

And Julian did return… singing.

He wasn’t the only one, the bar had a tendency of breaking out into tune, ebbing and flowing as talk turned to conversation and then back to drinking songs. Julian stopped singing as he sat down, but Charon (just as eager as he was shy) was quick to reach for him.

“You don’t have to stop,” Charon said. 

“I can’t sing  _ and _ talk to you,” Julian pointed out. He hadn’t expected the enthusiasm of Charon’s response. He hadn’t thought of it at all, in fact, when he was singing. But here Charon was, eyes shining with something that wasn’t intoxication, trying to convince him to sing  _ more _ , not less.

“We can pretend we’re in an opera, it’s fine,” Charon said, shaking his head.

“Then you’d have to sing, too.” Smiling, he tipped his glass to Charon, who chimed his glass against Julian’s.

“I only have a voice for lullabies,” Charon admitted, taking a sip of his drink. “Do you… like singing?” He asked, head tilted. 

The doctor nodded, and took a modest drink from his own glass too, rather than knocking it back in one go. “It’s… not exactly something I get to do anywhere but here. I’m not sure which I enjoy more.” He sat leaned back in his chair, tilted a little towards Charon as Charon’s chair was tilted a little towards his. It meant when he shifted, his legs brushed Charon’s under the table. It was oddly thrilling for something so unremarkable.

“The singing or the drinking?” Charon asked

Julian made a ‘sort-of’ motion with his hand. “The atmosphere of the Raven and the freedom it gives… or the peace of the office.”

“What a blessing then, that you get to have both.” Charon smiled at him.

Julian wasn’t sure if the warmth he felt was the alcohol or something else. He hoped it was the alcohol.

“I’ve always enjoyed singing,” he confessed then. What drink was this? His fourth? Ah, that might explain it. “If the only place I get to do it is the Raven rather than the stage... I’m sure that’s a burden I can bear.”

Still, it was his turn to be wistful. He shifted to sit with an elbow on the tabletop, and it only made it easier for Charon to lean a little closer to him.

“I suppose there was no chance to enjoy the stage while you were working to become a doctor,” he said, smiling but sympathetic.

Julian breathed out a laugh that might have been a little bitter. “I didn’t go to school.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he had hoped for. Shock, maybe? It was so hard to surprise Charon. But if that was his goal, he didn’t succeed. Charon’s smile only brightened.

“Don’t tell me you’re a doctor of philosophy,” he joked.

Julian couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good.

“You’re not faking the effect you have on the people around you.” Charon’s voice softened, and he laid his hand on Julian’s arm. “I’m not about to start questioning your credentials when you clearly know how to help people.”

“I learned in the field,” Julian admitted, looking down at his drink. “Faster than a classroom. Cheaper, too.”

“Harder, just the same.” Charon leaned his head against Julian’s shoulder. “I guess… I can only pray that it stays a distant memory for you.” A sweet thing for him to say, Julian thought. And here, his touch didn’t make Julian stumble or blush. It was only reassuring.

“It can’t be all bad…” Julian said quietly. “I can help a lot of people with what I’ve learned.”

“And you do,” Charon told him. He shifted away a little then, sitting back in his chair, giving Julian room, if he needed it. He didn’t remove his hand. “Every day.”

Another sip of Julian’s drink and the terrible, sharp taste was enough to force him to collect himself again. That was good. It was so easy to let go, to… fall. Really, he wasn’t being careful enough about any of this. He didn’t want to be careful. 

“What prompted you to leave?” He asked, glancing over at Charon. “To leave… Callay, was it? Were the mountains and churches really so terrible?”

Charon laughed, and Julian’s words did exactly as he meant them to. Seeing Charon relax made it easy for him to relax, too.

“No, no…” Charon shook his head. “Where I grew up, the convent… they were good to us.” Charon reassured him. “As for why I left… Well, there’s no way to tell that story without sounding like a lunatic.” 

“I’ll happily share the spotlight with you, Charon,” Julian said. It won him a rare blush, and more laughter. “You really grew up in a convent?”

Charon nodded. “I did. Quiet place. Nice people. The girls would be allowed to stay when they grew up, but boys couldn’t. Usually, they got us an apprenticeship in town, so we picked up some sort of trade. We can visit, you know, just can’t live there anymore.”

Julian made a thoughtful expression. “Did you dislike your chosen trade?”

Charon’s mischievous smile told him he probably wasn’t quite correct.

“I… barely had a chance to try, really. I was… Twelve, maybe thirteen? When I ran away. They hadn’t even given me a surname yet.”

Julian shifted forward in his seat, his hand on Charon’s arm, holding on perhaps a little more tightly than he had meant to. “Had someone hurt you?”

Perhaps it was more dramatic than he needed to be, but he could not help his reaction. Looking at the pieces he’d been given, and at Charon, so gentle and soft… He couldn’t stand the thought.

Charon’s smile faded and he laid his hand over Julian’s, shaking his head. “No, no… Nothing like that.” He reassured. “I was safe there, don’t worry. I just… I was called. So I answered.” He smiled. “And here I am.”

“Called?” Julian asked. He loosened his grip, relaxing at Charon’s reassurance, but he didn’t remove his hand. “By… what?”

“Not  _ what _ ,” Charon said. “Who. And I think the goddess called me, but…” He released his drink to gesture at himself, “I was raised in a convent, what other answer can I give.”

Tension passed, Julian relaxed a little, enough to chuckle. He still didn’t pull away from Charon, though, and Charon didn’t pull away from him. 

“Is she nice?” He asked Charon. “Your goddess?”

That look again. Julian still couldn’t name it.

Charon smiled at him, and nodded. “Yes. Yes, she is.”


	6. Your Choice, and Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian means well. So does Charon.

Julian managed not to stumble on his way out of the Raven, though Charon was ever-close just in case. He was five drinks in… plus the half a drink he shared with Charon, and a few more shared sips through their conversation together. But he was feeling remarkably good, truth be told. 

It made him wonder how many he’d manage to have before he passed out last time, but he guessed that answer was ‘more than five’.

If he offered his arm to Charon, surely that was only his natural flare for dramatics… and the five drinks.

But Charon took his arm happily.

“There’s something I wanted to show you,” Julian asked. “If you had the time?”

“I’m not the one who has to get up early tomorrow,” Charon reminded him. “Are you sure  _ you _ have the time?”

“For this,” Julian nodded, “Absolutely.”

They walked together, Julian woefully buoyed by alcohol and by Charon’s continued touch. As they walked, sometimes Charon would reach up with his free hand and run his touch up Julian’s arm, or he’d lean against him, comfortable and quiet. Julian wondered for whose benefit Charon was being so affectionate, but he found that he wasn’t able to protest.

“Really, I should take you to see this in the morning… I’d offer tomorrow, but-”

“But absolutely not,” Charon laughed softly. “Tomorrow morning, I hope you’re resting.”

“Well, yes-” Julian said sheepishly. “But, another morning, if you’d like…?”

“I’d love that,” Charon said. He nuzzled his cheek against Julian’s arm. “Twice or a hundred times, if I get to see it with you, I’ll be happy.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.” Julian frowned. “You could hate it.”

“You wouldn’t take me to see something I hated,” Charon shrugged. “Why should I worry?”

His point wasn’t easily refuted, and so Julian let the discussion settle between them. It wasn’t so late that the streets around them were deserted, The Rowdy Raven was hardly the only bar in the South End, and so the night was still young for many of the neighbourhood’s residents. The scenery was so familiar to Julian, but Charon looked around with great curiosity. 

“You don’t spend much time in the South End?” Julian asked. Most seasoned Vesuvians didn’t look at the neighbourhood with the same fondness and wonder as in Charon’s expression. Even Julian himself, who  _ was  _ genuinely fond of it. It was strange to see, but not an unhappy thing.

“Sort of,” Charon answered. “Usually when I’m out at night, it’s for work, not just to… be.” He sighed, leaning into Julian’s arm. “You’re still walking, so this isn’t what you meant to show me… but it’s nice.”

Julian had the strangest urge, to reach out to him, to do… something. He wasn’t even sure what. But there was something in Charon’s tone that seemed… like maybe Julian should.

But he didn’t. 

“This way.” He tugged Charon around a turn in the road, ever careful of his companion. Charon stayed close, a pleasant, constant warmth, for the entirety of their walk.

Until Julian finally came to what he wanted to show him: The city’s dock’s, fairly deserted, and the moonlight rippling over the water. Julian might have come down here on his own to appreciate the quiet, but he was happy to share it with Charon.

“Wow…” Charon breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“You mentioned that you missed the view from your home. At night, I’m sure it’s no comparison, but…”

“But you wanted to show it to me, just the same.” Charon turned, looking up at him. That expression again. Julian was almost drunk enough to ask him what it was. He was not quite so tipsy, however, that he was willing to hear the answer.

“Thank you, Julian.” And to his surprise, Charon hugged him.

For a moment, Julian was too stunned to react. But, how could he resist? He wrapped his arms around the other man, and when he breathed in, there was that scent again. His heart slowed, and tension fled from him, and Julian was unaware of either reaction. Charon was warm in his arms, and Julian enjoyed his closeness entirely too much.

He sighed when they pulled away.

“I…” He swallowed, looking at the ground. “I should probably warn you against this.”

“Against… coming to the dock?” Charon asked, tilting his head. He was still very close, one of his hands resting lightly on Julian’s chest.

“Against… being too close to me.” Julian should have stepped back, but he couldn’t bring himself to draw his hands from where they rested. Instead he gripped Charon’s shoulders just a little tighter. He knew what he needed to do. He just couldn’t make himself do it.

And Charon, being Charon, didn’t make it easy on him.

“Why’s that?” he asked, calm and quiet. 

“I’m not a good person…” Julian said, utterly serious. “I don’t want to be the reason harm befalls you…. And I don’t want to be the harm that does.”

The world was quiet and dark around them, only the sound of shifting water as a backdrop to his confession. It was a cool night, and already his heart sank to think of Charon’s warmth leaving him. He thought that this was the right thing to do, but it was so hard.

“Julian…” Charon sighed. He smoothed his touch up Julian’s chest to his cheek and smiled up at him.

“Maybe you're not the person you want to be sometimes,” Charon said quietly. “And sometimes… I’m not who I want to be, either. But you try.” He stroked his thumb over Julian’s cheek. “Goddess above, do you ever try. And who could ask more of you than that?”

Julian leaned into his touch, unconsciously reaching up and pressing his hand to Charon’s.

“I don’t know if that’s enough…” He said. “What if it isn’t?” That was where horror and heartbreak truly lay, Julian knew. To try, to give your all to something, and to fall short just the same. What if he did that here? What if he fell short for Charon?

“What if it is?” Charon’s smile widened just a little. “At least half of being around you is my choice, Julian. And I’ve made my choice.”

Julian frowned, but didn’t stop pressing into Charon’s touch. “Half?”

“Well, yeah.” Charon laughed softly. “The other half is  _ your  _ choice.”

As if he could ever choose to pull away from this. 

He was already lost.

“Come on,” Charon coaxed quietly. “Let me walk you home?”

“I should walk  _ you _ ,” Julian said. “The streets aren’t always safe.” Five drinks in or not, he knew he cut a much more intimidating figure than Charon. Being five drinks in might actually be to his benefit.

“No one is going to hurt me,” Charon reassured him. “And I’m not going far. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

He woke up the next morning alone, thinking of Charon on his doorstep. Charon had hugged him again, and Julian had held on with what could have only been alcohol-exacerbated neediness. But Charon hadn’t jerked away, had only brushed his fingers through Julian’s hair, and promised to see him soon.

Now, when Julian thought he smelled that scent again, he knew it was a daydream.

At least he still had his flowers.


	7. Blood and Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian has a hard night at work. Charon's timing is a little too perfect.

It was days later when he saw the strange boy again. He was leaving his home, locking the office behind him on his way to the Rowdy Raven, and when he turned he was there, standing in front of Julian, looking up at him with the same severe expression. Julian blinked at him in uncomprehending silence, but to see him more closely solved nothing. 

He was trying to figure out if he knew the boy from somewhere. Was he maybe the son of one of his patients? Or maybe Julian had come across him some other way? But no matter how much he wracked his brain, he could not explain the boy’s presence, nor his scowl. 

And just like before, after frowning at Julian, the boy turned on his heel and left.

“Hey, wait!” Julian called after him.

But, as before, he disappeared.

Julian sighed, shoulders slumping.

Who was that boy? And why was he so angry with Julian?

Maybe he’d ask around at the Raven and see if anyone knew him. If Julian had wronged him… he at least wanted to apologize. 

He did ask, later that night.  _ Young boy, dark hair, blue eyes, just the most severe expression- _ But he didn’t get any leads. 

Maybe the child had mistaken him for someone else?

He saw Charon only once, in passing. Still, he stopped and took both of Julian’s hands in his, clearly pleased to see him. 

“I’m sorry I have to rush off,” he said. “But I’ll come by your office soon, okay?”   
Soon. He hadn’t expected to have such sudden fondness for the word.

“After all…” Charon stepped closer, and Julian could feel his warmth. “I bet those flowers just about need to be replaced, don’t they? I’ll bring you some new ones.”

Maybe it was strange, but… Julian wasn’t worried about Charon coming to see him. Charon said he would, so… he would. It felt a little strange, really, not to worry about it. But he thought of the way Charon had looked up at him, so hopefully, and with that smile of his… It was hard not to trust him.

His days were busy enough, plenty of people who needed his help for troubles big and small, and on the nights he didn’t go to the Raven, he read, because there was no such thing as being too prepared.

He had a less pleasant day when someone at the Rowdy Raven tripped over a chair and cracked their head off the bartop. Julian, of course, jumped in to help. He could have bandaged something like that, maybe, but head wounds were nasty business…

So minutes later, he was stepping out the Raven’s back door, blood dripping into his shirt as he stumbled his way home. He fumbled with the lock, leaning against his front door and undoubtedly bloodying it, but he couldn’t care. 

His plan was to sleep it off. Taking the wound had been exhausting, but  _ dealing _ with it was just as tiring. He’d live, but he needed the rest. 

He’d clean up the blood in the morning.

And not at 3 am, when someone came banging on his door. 

The bleeding had stopped by then, and the wound was closed, but he was still weak and shaking and exhausted. At first, he wasn’t even sure what the sound was.

“Hey!” Someone outside. More banging on the door. “Hey! I need a doctor!”

Julian shook his head. However terrible he felt, it would have to wait. He was needed.

He hurried to the door, yanking it open. A distant streetlight revealed the extent of the damage: a man, bleeding heavily into the street. Julian’s heart tried to sink, but he wouldn’t let it. If this was what was asked of him… he’d give it. He’d made that promise to himself. 

“Come on,” Julian reached for him, hooking his arm under the man’s and pulling him into the office. With his free hand, he turned up the dimmed lantern on the table. The sight that greeted him was… unpleasant.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Julian asked, helping him over to a chair.

“Bitch tried to rob me,” the man spat. “Did a number on me with his fucking knife.”

The man was older, just starting to grey a little, and he was covered in lacerations. A quick once-over revealed to Julian that none of them were lethal on their own, but altogether… he was in rough shape. Whoever had tried to rob him had been cruel in their retaliation.

“Well, are you gonna fuckin’ fix me up or not?” The man demanded, his voice probably not as intimidating as he’d hoped. Julian was unshaken. People in pain were often not at their best. “They said you’re the best goddamn doctor in the city and here I am, bleeding out in your fucking office.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Julian said calmly. “Give me just a moment.”

“Do I look like I have a moment?!”

Julian took a deep breath, bracing himself. 

He pulled the injuries into himself, feeling them blooming over his skin. Worse than just the pain was the sweeping wave of weakness that accompanied it. He grit his teeth, shaking with the effort of healing the last of the man's injuries. 

Then he stumbled back, blinking the darkness out of his eyes lest he faint in the middle of the floor, and the man was already getting to his feet. 

Fresh blood soaked into his shirt, already cold against his skin. The cuts ached, and all Julian wanted was to go back to bed. He’d made the right choice, but the toll was heavy.

"I mean, that works.” The man laughed and got to his feet. He pulled some money out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. "Thanks for the mend, doc."

He was gone as quickly as he had come, and Julian crawled back to bed in a daze.

There was no way he'd get the blood out of the sheets. 

He only managed sleep because he was exhausted, otherwise he had the faint idea that the pain and discomfort would have kept him up. For once, bloodloss was actually of benefit to him. At this rate, he'd be unlikely to work that day, but that was just something he'd have to deal with. Sometimes, emergencies happened. He didn't think much of it, beyond lamenting his fate in the brief moments before sleep. 

Of all the things that could have happened, he didn't expect to wake up to Charon. 

"Julian…" His hand was on Julian's shoulder, and he stood over him where he laid in bed, wrapped in blankets and blood. Julian blinked dully up at him, at first too tired to comprehend what he was seeing. "Oh, goddess…. Julian, are you okay?”   
How did Charon always manage to turn up when he was at his worst?

Julian didn’t care. He probably should have been defensive or  _ something _ , embarrassed or upset, but he wasn’t. He was distantly, faintly surprised and confused. Mostly, he was weakly, pityingly grateful. 

“Charon…”

Where Charon’s hands were on him, he could feel his warmth. Julian just wanted to curl into him and sleep more. Maybe it was a good thing he was so weak. He couldn’t imagine what he might ask for if he’d had the strength. 

“I’m going to help, okay…?” Charon pressed close to him, nuzzling against his cheek, half-hugging Julian despite the mess he was, despite the mess around him. “Give me just a moment.”

Julian groaned, and maybe he should have protested. What was Charon going to do? Any tending to Julian’s wounds wasn’t necessary, but maybe he just planned to pull all the bloodied bedding out of the way? It was uncomfortable and sticky and the dried parts were stiff and if he shifted wrong, sometimes they prodded him. Even that hurt: his whole body felt like a bruise.

But there was no tugging, no gentle urging to roll him out of the way. Instead, as Julian blinked sleep out of his eyes and tried to rouse himself, he realized what was happening: his pain was fading.

“Charon?” He pushed himself to sit up, wincing. The pain wasn’t gone yet. “What are you-”

“It’s okay,” Charon reassured him. The weak light coming in the window told Julian that it must have been early morning. He’d only been asleep a few hours. He sat up in bed, and Charon kneeled by his bedside, holding one of Julian’s hands in both of his own.

And Julian’s wounds, the remainders of them at least, were sealing themselves up. The pain relief was profound, and with it returned his clarity of thought. 

"Charon-" Julian feared initially that Charon somehow, impossibly, shared his affliction. He panicked, worried that the other man would soon bear the wounds that he had borne only moments ago.

But Charon wasn't bleeding, or at least, not much. He had a split lip on the one side of his mouth, but nothing like the injuries that had mysteriously disappeared. 

"Julian…." Charon smiled up at him, eyes glassy in relief. "Julian, what happened? There was blood on the door, and it's all over the hallway…"

"How did you-"  _ How did you know? _ He meant to ask. But he cupped Charon's cheek in his hand and when Charon turned into his touch, nuzzling into him, he saw the bruises on the side of his face, dark along his cheek and jaw. "What happened?" He echoed, heart aching to see Charon hurt. 

Charon shook his head. "You first. It looks like someone died in here, Julian."

Julian sighed. Even healed, he was still exhausted. Using his magic twice in a night, and the lack of sleep, left him weakened. He leaned his forehead close to Charon's, and when he nodded, it brushed their noses together. 

"I… I'll tell you…" he said, but looked so exhausted that Charon's insistence softened. 

"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable first…?" Charon murmured. "And I'll put some hot water on…"

Weakly, Julian nodded. 

Charon helped him to his feet, pulling him out of his bloodied shirt and helping him into a chair. He was filthy with blood, and some of the water Charon boiled would presumably go to coffee, but the rest of the warm water he poured into a bowl and when it was safe to use, took a rag and started cleaning Julian up. 

Charon’s face was bruised on the one side, and his lip was bloodied, but other than that he seemed to be in one piece. Julian was relieved to see it. 

“Tell me what happened…?” Charon coaxed, gently cleaning the blood from one of Julian’s hands.

Julian hesitated, trying to find the words.

“I… have a little magic,” he said.  _ A curse _ , he wanted to say, but even that was hard to manage with any vitriol, not when it helped him save two people in a single night. “I-I can make someone’s wounds my own. Death is no friend of mine.” He managed a wan smile. “So I am a little more resilient because of it…”

“It must exhaust you terribly…” Charon used one hand to wring out the rag in the warm water. He didn’t let go of Julian with his other hand, as though he was reluctant to do so. “I’m so sorry…”

Julian shook his head. It was nice to be able to do so without feeling dizzy. “It isn’t usually this bad, but… first there was the woman at the Raven, last night. Tripped and fell into the bar-” he gestured to himself, where the laceration had been, and Charon winced. “And then the man, last night… or, early this morning. A robbery.”

“Two in one night…” Charon murmured sympathetically. “No wonder there’s blood everywhere. I’ll help you clean it up later, okay?” He offered. “When you’ve rested….”

Despite his earlier suffering, despite his many unanswered questions, Julian relaxed under Charon’s care. When that water was too bloody to be any good, he dumped it out and replaced it… and returned with a cup of coffee for Julian.

“Your beautiful hair…” Charon mourned, carefully cleaning it as well as he could. “So much blood…”

Julian would have blushed, if he was able.

Charon got him as cleaned up as best he was able, and found him an unbloodied shirt. With his care, Charon ushered in the familiar quiet of his presence, the  _ safety _ of it, the comfort. Julian sipped his coffee and gradually put himself back together. The coffee did less for him than Charon’s presence, and even the few seconds he spent away from Julian’s side to find him the shirt had Julian feeling anxious.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked, feeling like a child for the way he tugged at Charon’s sleeve. 

Charon leaned in close, just as Julian had done before, their foreheads together. Then he nodded. “Of course…” he reassured.

He took a deep breath, but even when he pulled away he didn’t go far, leaning against the arm of Julian’s chair. Julian cast an unhappy glance at the bed. That was where he  _ wanted _ to be, but it was still such a mess.

“I… I think by now, you’ve figured out what I do,” Charon said. “Besides selling flowers, I mean.”

What kind of job would put Charon on the street at such an hour to find Julian there? That would give him the days off to take care of him?  _ Usually when I’m out at night, it’s for work, _ he’d said. 

Julian nodded. He’d suspected for a while, not that it made much of a difference to him. 

Charon sighed. That Julian had known, and never felt the need to bring it up, was reassuring rather than upsetting.

“Last night, I-” Charon stopped mid-thought, pulling away to look at Julian with an expression of dawning realization.

“What time did that man come by?” Charon reached up to cup Julian’s face in his hands. His touch was warm, and it was only Charon’s upset expression that stopped Julian from melting into it. “The one you said… the robbery… do you remember?”

Julian set his coffee aside to lay his hands over Charon’s, reassuring him that the touch was welcome and he hoped, reassuring whatever it was that had gotten him so worried.

“Early…” He answered. “Three or four this morning, I think. Charon, what is it?”

Charon breathed out a horrified  _ oh no _ , and Julian felt him start to sag. Before his legs could go out from under him, he quickly pulled Charon closer. Charon, after a long second of being overwhelmed, was quick to curl into him, to hold him close. He wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulders and sat, trembling, in Julian’s lap. This was not at all how Julian expected this discussion to go, but if Charon needed him, needed this, he’d give it. This was so much easier to give. 

“I’m sorry…” Charon took a deep breath to try and get himself together. “Julian, I am  _ so _ sorry, this is all my fault…” He buried his face in Julian’s shoulder, trembling in his arms.

“Neither my magic nor my profession are your fault…” Julian said, smoothing his hand down Charon’s back. “My suffering is… usually my own doing.” Reflexively, he held Charon just a little closer to him. It sounded so easy to admit aloud, but...

“Please…” Julian asked softly. “Tell me what is upsetting you…”   
Charon shifted in his lap to look up at him. “Last night, I-I was working, or trying to, a-and someone approached me. He…” Charon’s mournful expression hardened to something as close to anger as Julian had ever seen it.

“He wanted something I wasn’t selling,” he said, and turned his head to give Julian a better look at his injuries. “Didn’t like when I said no. But all those times I told you I’d be safe, I meant it.”

He turned back, and Julian watched him press two fingers to the split in his lip. Julian’s frown of concern mirrored Charon’s grimace of pain. When he pulled his fingers away, they were sticky with fresh blood. As Julian watched, the blood lifted itself from Charon’s fingers in two delicate, glistening ribbons. “I… have a little gift of my own. A-a little more selfish than yours…” In the morning light, the twisting strips of blood shone like they were cut from rubies. “He made the mistake of making me bleed, so I… I wanted to make sure he’d never try it with anyone else…”

“I-I can heal people too,” Charon said. He released his control of the blood and it turned liquid again, splashing down onto his sleeve, ignored. “As long as I have some blood to spare. That’s what I did earlier, but…”

He shook his head, and when he looked at Julian again, he looked upset.

“But of course he came here. Who wouldn’t? And you had to suffer because of it. I’m so sorry….”   
He buried himself close to Julian again, his face pressed into the curve of Julian’s neck, hugging him tight. Julian hugged him back.

All those hours of suffering for the man who had tried to hurt Charon. What futility. What  _ uselessness _ . But how could Julian be angry with Charon about it? If Julian was less of a bleeding heart maybe he wouldn’t have these kinds of problems.

But he sure as hell couldn’t be upset about Charon’s actions.

“There’s no need to be sorry…” Julian said, rubbing Charon’s back with his hand. “I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to help him.”

“You’re a doctor.” Charon shifted to look at him properly. “And a damn good one. No one in their right mind would think that you’d turn your back on someone in need like that.”

He nuzzled close to Julian, their noses brushing. “But I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m so sorry…”

Julian thought of the despair that always accompanied that kind of pain. The searing  _ loneliness _ of suffering, the knowledge that he had made the choice himself, but it really wasn’t like he had a choice at all.

But Charon was here, curled up in his lap, warm and worried in Julian’s arms.

Would he endure that again?

Of course.

But this wouldn't be like that. This was so much easier. 

“Charon…” Julian said, shifting his touch to stroke his fingers over the man’s uninjured cheek. “Please don’t be upset. I’m alright, I promise…”

Charon’s eyes flickered closed and he rubbed his cheek on Julian’s hand. Oh, he made it so easy.

The effort was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone, but Charon’s injuries weren’t very bad. He could weather them, certainly.

“No!” Charon jerked from his fingers, clutching Julian’s shirt, “It’s… you don’t have to do that.” He looked sadly at the ghost of a bruise that had started to bloom over Julian’s jawline. “I’ll heal, Julian, please…” 

“We all heal, given enough time…” Julian said quietly. “The question is… how do we heal? And if I can make that process any less painful for you… I want to do that.”

“Just take care of me,” Charon begged him, his voice as quiet and close to breaking as Julian had ever heard it. His eyes were glassy, and his lips were bitten-pink and sore. “And let me take care of you. Please…”

Julian sighed, but he relented. How could he not? Charon curled in close to him again and Julian held him there. He had been so relieved to have Charon close again that he’d do anything asked of him if it meant staying like this a little longer.

But if all Charon wanted was his care… he could give that.   



	8. A Gentler Revisiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Charon take care of each other... and clean up all the blood.

For a long time, that was all they did, sat together in the early morning light that peeked through his windows. Julian could sleep like this: his back would give him hell later, but that was a cost he’d gladly pay to have Charon so close to him.

But, typical of Charon, he seemed unwilling to let him pay it.

“Julian…” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?” He nudged his nose gently against Julian’s cheek. “I’ll put a sign on the door and tell people to call on you tomorrow, and maybe I can make you something to eat. How’s that sound?”

Parting from Charon to shower sounded terrible, frankly. But his voice was so sweetly coaxing that Julian found it hard to argue.

“You… You’ll still be here?” He asked softly. “When I come back?”

Charon smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek. “I promise,” he reassured him softly. “Now, go on.”

Showers and their miracle, life-giving properties were well known to Julian and today was no different. Even after Charon had cleaned him up a little, the water still ran red for the first few minutes. Julian didn’t mind blood, usually, but he was desperate to be free of it right now. He scrubbed it free from his hair ( _ beautiful hair _ , Charon had said. He blushed now, certainly) and tried to clean it from every inch of skin. 

By the time he got out of the shower and made his way back to his room to get dressed, Charon had stripped the bed of the bloodied blankets and sheets. Julian couldn’t explain why that, specifically, made him smile. But, it did, and he smiled to himself as he pulled on clean clothes. 

He reached for his eyepatch again… and decided against it.

Charon, as he had promised, had stuck a sign to the office door, and even gone so far as to clean the blood off the outside. By the time Julian came back, Charon had another cup of coffee out for him, and managed to find them both something to eat.

“I missed you,” he said, drawing close to Julian when he stepped in the kitchen.

Julian swallowed. “I…”  _ I wasn’t gone for so long… _ He almost said. And while that was true, there was something truer that he could say.

“I missed you too.”

Charon reached up, fingers tracing over where Julian’s faint bruise had already healed. His eyes lingered there for only a moment before looking up, into both of Julian’s, and his face broke into a gentle smile.

“You should eat a little,” he encouraged. “I started to get things cleaned up a bit.”

“You should eat with me,” Julian said. “It’s not your mess to clean up…” He felt a little unsteady without his eyepatch, but he leaned into Charon’s touch just the same. The soft light gave everything a dreamy, unreal quality… but there was no denying the reality of Charon’s presence here with him.

It was nice just to  _ be _ .  To be able to look at Charon and not worry about what he saw when he looked back. Testing that while he was sober and well was a little frightening, but Charon’s reaction had been utterly unchanged.

“I’m not going to make you do it alone,” Charon said. “But… yes, of course I’ll eat with you.”

“And you should tell me what you remember of that man,” Julian said, as they parted to sit at the table. “So I can… make reparations.” His own memory of the whole thing was a little hazy. His feelings on the matter were  _ not _ .

“I will do no such thing,” Charon said, smiling. “Because  _ I _ am going to worry about that. You have enough on your plate.”

“I can fit in some minor surgery,” Julian insisted. Charon laughed, a bright, unabashed sound, and he gave Julian that  _ look _ again. 

Julian ate, and what a surprise, felt better for it. It was almost like that was a piece of advice he gave out regularly and never abided by himself (somewhere up there along with ‘limit consumption of alcohol and caffeine’). Not that the caffeine in his current coffee was doing anything for him: he was still very tired, but it was a comfortable sort of tired, quiet and warm and clean.

“Are you going to get a little sleep?” Charon asked him. 

Julian wasn’t in any danger, the worst of what he’d suffered was over. But he  _ was _ tired. And… he thought of Charon’s fingers in his hair, of his heartbeat in Julian’s ear. 

He hesitated. He felt more than shy, he felt vulnerable, and it wasn’t the first time Charon had made him feel that way. But he could do this, he thought. He  _ wanted  _ to do this.

Julian swallowed, and laid his hand over Charon’s, where it rested on the table.

“Will you stay?” He asked.

Reflexively, Charon turned his hand so that he could hold Julian’s, and had to stop himself from answering too quickly.

“I… I’d like that.”

Julian made the bed, or at least, made it enough. Charon rinsed their dishes, and made sure that the door to his office was locked.

“It wasn’t locked when I came by this morning,” he said. “Which is… probably good. If it had been locked and I saw all the blood… I might be paying for a new lock for you,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You would have broken it?” Julian asked.

Charon nodded. “With a little hesitation. I… don’t want to break things that belong to you. But I was… I was really worried.”

They stood together in what passed for Julian’s bedroom, the little loft above his office where Charon had found him initially. There was still blood through the entryway, and even on the floor, here, but Julian paid it little mind. It was hard to worry about that when Charon was here with him, his hand warm on Julian's arm. 

Julian was reminded of a question that hadn’t been answered earlier, and he asked Charon now, his voice quiet as so not to break the strange softness that seemed to hang in the air.

“How… how did you know I was hurt?”

Charon moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and though he sighed when he looked up at Julian, he was smiling faintly. 

"I'm not the only one in my family with… unique skills," he said. "You haven't met him, yet, I don't believe… but I have a younger brother."

Julian frowned in thought. It was his turn to put the pieces together. 

"About so tall-" he gestured, "Dark hair?"

Charon nodded, looking surprised. "You've seen him?"

Julian breathed out a laugh and took a seat beside Charon. "He's made himself known to me. He doesn't look like you. I had no idea who he was."

Now it was Charon's turn to frown. "He didn't… introduce himself?"

"Not unless you count bursting wordlessly into my office and running off again for an introduction," Julian joked quietly. "I thought he was upset with me."

Charon groaned and leaned against Julian's shoulder, pressing his face into Julian's arm. "I am so sorry. He's… protective. We've been through a lot, and when I told him how important you were to me… he probably took it upon himself to see who you were. I'm sorry." He sighed, and Julian reached over and brushed his fingers through Charon’s hair. It only made Charon press a little closer to him.

“I can’t say I blame him for disapproving,” Julian said quietly.

Charon looked up at him then, his expression thoughtful. “He was the one who told me you had been hurt. In fact, he woke me up to tell me, and I came over as fast as I could. I think, if he disapproved… he’s changed his mind.”

Julian smiled a little, shyly. Charon nuzzled against his shoulder.

“His gift, then… he knows things?” Julian asked. “Things that are far from his involvement?”

“Mhm,” Charon agreed. “Probably why he came to see you. To see if he couldn’t figure out what kind of person you were.” He looked up at Julian again. “He could have just asked me, but he’s stubborn.”

“Are you not a little biased?” Julian wondered.

Charon raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t  _ start _ biased, did I?” He asked. “If I’m biased now, you made me that way honestly…”

Julian leaned his head against Charon’s. Maybe he was right? Julian would have loved to put up a more collected front, to be more dashing, to be more confident, but fate had only brought Charon to him in the times when he was at his  _ least _ worthy. And yet here he was, his hand over Julian’s, leaning close to him in comfortable, shared silence.

He couldn’t think about it too much, or his throat got tight. 

“I’ll introduce you two properly sometime,” Charon said. “He won’t be unhappy with you, I promise.”

He pressed a kiss to Julian’s shoulder, and Julian felt his whole body flush with heat.

“You should rest.” Charon looked up at him. “Sleep, for a little while?”

Jullian swallowed, his hands tightening where they gripped the blanket under them.

“You’ll stay…?” He asked again, softly. Charon had said that he would.

“Of course…” Charon shifted, pushing himself up a little taller where he sat. Julian instinctively leaned down to meet him, their noses brushing. “I’m not leaving. Maybe I’ll clean a little? Or I can pull a chair up here and read, if you want me to be closer…”

“N-no-” Julian pulled back, minutely, to look at him. Charon had misunderstood. He could feel himself blushing, burning up with a feeling that wasn’t quite shame. He turned his hand under Charon’s, so he could hold on to him, if only gently.

“I mean… will you stay here?” Julian asked. “With me…?”

He watched colour creep into Charon’s face, tinting him pink across his nose and cheeks. He watched the way Charon’s curious expression shifted to a soft smile.

And he wondered what he had ever worried about.

“I’d like that,” Charon said softly. “I’d… I’d really like that.”

Charon was so warm. Julian pulled back the blankets and then, each of them as eager as the other, they wound themselves close, Julian's head on Charon's chest and Charon's arms around his shoulders. He settled in against him with a shudder. 

The food had stated his hunger but this sated a hunger of a different kind.

"Are you okay?" Charon asked softly. Julian's hair was still faintly damp, but Charon carded his fingers through it anyway. Julian sighed contentedly. He had been trying to ignore how badly he wanted this, but there was no denying it here. He supposed it was all too plain for Charon to see that.

"I'm unhurt…" Julian answered. It was as honest as he could be, he thought.

"That's not what I asked…"

He shifted so he could look up at Charon. Charon looked back at him, calm and faintly worried, but he hadn’t stopped playing with Julian’s hair. "I…  _ am  _ unhurt. And that is a marvel in itself. I feel... selfish, I suppose-" he swallowed, ashamed to have admitted it aloud. "But nothing I can't survive."

"Selfish…?" Charon asked. "For wanting this?"

Julian, reddened, curled a little closer to Charon again.

"Then we are both selfish…" Charon mused. "I've missed this, Julian."

He sighed, and nuzzled into Julian's hair. "I… worried, because last time, you weren't well, and I had no way to know if it was what you really wanted. What if I had taken advantage of you?" He held Julian a little more tightly. "I'd never be able to forgive myself."

"You didn't hurt me." Julian raised his head. His frown was for the thought itself, not for Charon. "...I knew what I was asking for. As always, though, you seem to know when what I need is different than what I want."

Charon laughed softly. "Julian, resisting you is nearly impossible… but you were sick." Charon stroked his cheek. "I… I'm very lucky I could be so close to you. And that I can be so close to you now."

Could this really be so selfish if Charon wanted it, too? There was no lie in the way Charon held him, in the hundred myriad of ways that Charon went out of his way to show Julian affection. Even here, he traced light, aimless patterns over Julian’s back, coaxing him to relax. Julian felt the last of his tension dripping away from him, and he once more settled against Charon, warm and at ease. 

"Sleep," Charon encouraged softly. "Sleep, and I'll be here when you wake."

Julian did. 

And Charon was.

He slept away whatever was left of the morning and a good part of the afternoon. When he finally roused, he blinked tired eyes up at Charon to find him still asleep, peaceful and unmoving. He had been woken up early, he said and he had been working the night before. He must have needed the sleep as badly as Julian did.

Charon made a soft sound, shifting, almost waking. His first instinct was to pull Julian a little closer, despite not being awake, and it made Julian’s heart warm. He nuzzled against Charon’s chest, content with the idea of dozing in the warm quiet, and was nothing short of (quietly, sleepily) thrilled when he got to have just that. It was hard to be disappointed when Charon awoke. Hearing his name murmured with sleepy affection was something Julian wasn’t soon to forget.

“Julian…” Charon made a soft sound, but not an unhappy one. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” Julian shifted against him, and he wasn’t so dozy as to miss the way Charon shivered. “Did you?”

Charon nodded, and turned away so he could cover his mouth when he yawned. Then, he laughed tiredly.

“Clearly,” he laughed, the sound still soft with tiredness. He pushed himself up a little to nudge Julian’s nose with his own. “How about I stay and help you get the place cleaned up? I don’t have anywhere I’m in a hurry to be.”

His offer was kind, and Julian eventually agreed, but neither of them were particularly driven to leave the bed. Still, when they eventually did, Charon cheerfully maintained his offer, helping Julian scrub blood from the floors in his bedroom, stairs and entryway. 

Warm, soapy water was enough to get most of it out, and if he laughed when Charon blew soap bubbles at him, there was no one but them around to hear it. 

Julian had to admit that he was a little proud of their work. There was something uniquely satisfying about a freshly-scrubbed space… and while he would have cleaned the office, lest he frighten patients, he knew himself well enough to guess that he would have left the bloodstains in his bedroom out of sheer laziness. After all, he was no stranger to his own blood.

But he felt… better, now that it was cleaned up.

“I have to go make dinner,” Charon said. “But… maybe sometime I could bring  _ you _ dinner?”

Julian noted that Charon didn’t ask him over for dinner.

He wanted to hope he knew why that was.

Trying to fight down his blush was challenging.

“I… I’d like that,” he said. Charon smiled at him, so sweet and bright that Julian couldn’t be sure that it confirmed his suspicions… but there was a mischievous look in his eyes that left Julian unable to help but smile back.

“Do you..” Julian started to ask, and then hesitated. It wasn’t really his business, strictly speaking, and Charon didn’t owe him an answer. But he wasn’t asking out of possessiveness or a desire to condemn…

He just worried.

And now Charon was looking at him, encouragingly.

Julian sighed.

“Are you working tonight?” He asked. “Not that I can ask you not to, not that I  _ desire _ to. I just… I’d hate to see you hurt again.”

Charon’s curious expression became sympathetic, and he let his cloak fall from where he had been tugging it free of its hook. He let it fall to the floor, and crossed the few steps between them to take Julian’s hands in his.

“Please don’t fear,” he reassured. “I know you only mean well. I’d never take it like that.” Charon squeezed his hands gently. 

Julian breathed a sigh of relief. “You can see why I fear for you, then,” he reasoned. “I… don’t mean any insult…”

“No…” Charon shook his head. “I know. And really… most of my clients aren’t like that. But…”

He hesitated, biting his lip. Julian couldn’t fight the urge to pull his hand from Charon’s in order to cup his cheek. Like his wounds, all signs of Charon’s had disappeared, and he leaned into Julian’s touch without hesitation.

“I’m not going to work anymore,” Charon said finally, looking up at him. “I’m not ashamed, and I’m not even really  _ worried _ , but…” 

He sighed. “What do I tell Simon?” He asked. Julian reasoned, correctly, that he meant his brother. “What… what kind of example is that? I’d be so upset if he were hurt at work, and continued to do it without another thought. I can’t show him that that’s okay. I can’t be that person.”

Julian’s smile was so soft, and so fond. Charon, with his gifts, feared little. But he certainly knew what was important to him. 

“I’m going to look for another job,” he told Julian. “And when I do… I’ll celebrate by bringing you dinner.” He smiled, bright and cheerful once more. “How does that sound?”

“Alright,” Julian agreed with a nod. “We’ll have a little celebration, just us.”

Charon laughed softly, and pushed himself up on his toes to kiss Julian on the cheek.

“I can’t wait. See you soon!”

He grabbed his cloak from where it had fallen, and with a last, cheerful wave at Julian, he was gone.

And Julian was left alone… but rather than lonely, he found himself smiling, and reached up to touch where Charon had pressed his lips to his cheek.

Dinner. And soon, he hoped.

He’d have to pick up some actual wine, and not the shit he usually drank.


	9. Mischief and Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon sees fit to reveal himself to Julian. Julian reveals more of himself to Charon.

After the excitement of having to use his magic twice in a night, things returned to relative calm. He embraced, as he always did, the mundane problems of his patients and the reliability of the Raven. 

_ See you soon _ , Charon said. 

He hoped the man’s search was going well, and for more reasons than his own selfishness.

Often he ended up at the dock as a detour on his way home from the Rowdy Raven, because there was something about being half in the bag and staring wistfully out at the water that appealed to him. But, it was still early today, and he found himself there regardless. He’d promised to bring Charon back here… he’d have to do that.

For now, he watched the sun on the waves, and thought of the way it had made rainbows off the bubbles in his office. He’d remembered that a lot, recently. 

He was lost in thought, about nothing in particular, when his peace was promptly broken.

“Hey, Doctor Julian.”

Calm as anything, from his left. He whirled… and almost took Simon out with his jacket.

Simon, much like his brother might have, laughed and pushed it aside.

Julian was not making a very good first impression. That seemed to be something of a trend with the two of them.

He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. “You must be Simon,” he said. “It’s… nice to finally meet you.”

Simon was as Julian remembered, small and slight, and with sharp, unflinching eyes. There was none of his brother’s softness in him… but Julian thought that lack of softness was not the same as being  _ bad _ . He could hardly blame the boy for being protective of Charon.

“You sold me out.” Simon had something in his hands, something that shone, and he tossed it and caught it again. It glinted in the sunlight. “Charon told me all about it. Apparently, I have to stop harassing you.”

He had a mischievous, impish grin, and it was very clear that he wasn’t upset at being scolded.

“If you had let me in on the plan, perhaps I could have avoided the trouble,” Julian joked. It won him a laugh.

“I didn’t know that was an option.” Simon had the aloof air of someone more than twice his age, and while that was strange, Julian had known all manner of strange children: plague, pirating, and the streets of Vesuvia all raised their own unique brand of urchins. What was important to Julian wasn’t his weirdness: it was that Simon looked to him with open amusement, and none of the scorn he once had.

“Do you know now?” Julian asked.

“I think so.” Another toss. Simon seemed to be enjoying the shifting light of his toy as much as Julian was. The setting sun suffused everything with a soft, red glow, and it made the sparkles of his toy all the brighter.

“I’m relieved,” Julian said as he watched him play with the bauble. It would have been possible, even probable, for their meeting to be uncomfortable, but despite his initial uncertainty, he didn’t feel unhappy. 

“Here, catch,” Simon tossed it to him, and he caught it easily, holding it up to the light to get a better look at it. A glass ball, or at least four-fifths of one. A slice had been carved out and the interior meticulously shaped into facets to reflect the light. That it, like the sunlight on the water, brought to mind the time he spent cleaning his home with Charon was not a bad thing. 

He smiled to himself.

“It’s yours,” Simon said, at his elbow, looking up at Julian who looked down at him. “A present.”

“For me?” Julian wondered. “It’s such a lovely treasure, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do much of anything,” Simon said with that same grin. “But I know how happy that memory makes you, and I  _ was _ pretty rude before,” he admitted shamelessly.

“That’s awfully kind of you…” Julian’s grip on the trinket didn’t tighten, lest he hurt it, but that would have been his initial reaction. He was touched that Simon would do something like that. He wasn’t sure he could tell Simon  _ how _ touched.

Then again, Simon had said ‘that memory’, so maybe Julian didn’t have to tell him.

He cradled the little glass bauble against his chest with his hand, without even thinking about it. He supposed he could have put it in his pocket, but he wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

“Can I ask you a little about that?” Julian wondered, his tone gentle. It must have been annoying to have people curious about you all the time. 

But Simon nodded up at him with an earnest expression that did really look like his brother’s, and for a moment Julian couldn’t ask, too struck by the sudden resemblance.

“I wondered… when you came to see me, what were you looking for?” He asked quietly. He wasn’t sure if Simon would be able to tell him. He wasn’t sure what he expected the answer to be.

But Simon reached up and laid his hand on Julian’s arm. “I didn’t know,” He admitted, smiling. It was a gentler smile though, happy despite its missing mischief. “How do you tell something like that? All I do is… guess with a little more information.”

Julian nodded. He supposed that made sense. If he had looked for something so simple as love, that hardly meant that Julian wasn’t capable of hurting Charon. In earnest, he only knew his own mind, but it was enough of a maze for him to understand what Simon had meant. Like bodies, thoughts could be endlessly complicated.

“I will try to prove you right,” he promised Simon.

Simon nodded, that same familiar, earnest expression on his face. “I know.”

Around them, the world was growing darker as the sun set, and Julian sighed. This had been a pleasant surprise, but one of them should not be out after dark.

Simon’s impish smile was back as Julian looked to him. “I’ll walk you home,” he offered.

“Absolutely not,” Julian shook his head, smiling. “I’m going to walk  _ you _ home.”

“I had to try~”

He was surprised when Simon took his hand, but he was far from unhappy, and they turned away from the docks to head back into town proper.

“So,” Simon said, “Did you get to see anything gross at work today?”

Julian laughed. “Today, no. But, a few days ago…”   
It was no surprise that Simon delighted in such things. Julian had lots of stories to tell.   
Charon was happy to see them both, and Julian was retroactively repaid for what little trouble Simon had caused him when he got to see the boy get swept up in Charon’s arms and kissed on the forehead. Simon blushed furiously and frowned a terrible scowl, but clung on to Charon’s arm just the same.

“Thank you for walking him home,” Charon said, one arm around Simon’s shoulders, the other reaching for Julian’s hand.

“No trouble,” Julian said. “He kept us safe the whole way here.”

“I told him I’d walk  _ him _ home,” Simon said, petulant. “But he said no.”

“Because sometimes, you have to be twelve,” Charon told him, laughing and kissing his forehead again. “Sunshine, everyone has to get taken care of sometimes.”

Simon shot his brother a look Julian couldn’t read, but he supposed that ran in the family. It was not the same as the looks Charon had given  _ him _ , however.

“I’m actually really glad you came by,” Charon turned to him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve missed you.”

It always stunned Julian how easily Charon said things like that. There was no preamble, no ego. Just Charon, and the way he looked at Julian.

“Been busy?” Julian asked, trying to ignore his own blush.

“He’s got a new job,” Simon said. “At the teashop.”

Julian’s face bloomed into a smile. “Is that so?”

Charon nodded. “I’ve been busy training this past week, so I haven’t been able to come by. I was going to stop by your office tomorrow and see if you were free anytime soon.”

“I’m free tomorrow?” Julian suggested without hesitation. He could have been thinking of what Charon’s offer implied, but in the moment, it never crossed his mind. Rather boldly, he lifted Charon’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his fingers. “Will I be so lucky as to be graced with your company?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

Charon laughed. Simon made a disgusted noise.

“I’m going inside!”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Charon said, laughing, as the boy stepped into their home.

“I hope I didn’t genuinely upset him,” Julian said, kissing Charon’s hand again. It didn’t seem likely, but it was worth saying.

“You didn’t,” Charon reassured. “He’s just being dramatic.”

“I can assure you I have no idea what that’s like.” Julian shot Charon an amused look.

Charon smiled and tugged their joined hands to his cheek so he could lean into Julian’s touch. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” he apologized. “How has work been? Have you been doing alright?”

“Nothing to fear,” Julian reassured. “There hasn’t been much in the way of excitement. I haven’t needed saving from any disasters,” he teased gently.

“I don’t ask because I worry about saving you.” Charon smiled. “I care about the mundane stuff too, you know. It doesn’t always have to be an emergency.”

“Alas, I was planning to have an emergency tomorrow. Is this to say that you won’t be coming to rescue me?” Julian’s mischievous smile was effortlessly charming, and Charon laughed and pressed a kiss to his hand.

“I’ll always come when you call,” Charon promised, with the kind of sincerity that made Julian’s breath catch. But that wasn’t a bad feeling, and the flutter in his heart had him leaning a little closer to Charon. 

“I’m glad work hasn’t been so hard…” Charon said softly, shifting half a step closer to him. “It’s… not really your magic I worry about, you know. It’s everything else. There’s so much more to your work than that…”

He was close enough to touch his forehead, and his nose, to Julian’s. He did so with a smile. Julian wasn’t sure what to call that little idiosyncrasy of theirs, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. 

“I could never do what you do.”

“I don’t want anyone to have to do what I do,” Julian said, trying to fight down the blush in his cheeks and failing. Still, his smile wasn’t dishonest. “That’s why I work so hard.”

Charon narrowed his eyes at him, laughed, and kissed his cheek. “Take the compliment,” he insisted. “And be safe on your way home. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

The sun had set, and the breeze winding its way through the city was cool, but Julian didn’t even feel it. He was so  _ warm _ .

Julian slept well, but had no problem admitting his impatience the next day. It was strange, the anticipation of it all. Julian could not even be sure what, specifically, he felt such anticipation for. He had only explicitly been promised dinner and truthfully, he couldn’t think much about Charon’s visit at  _ all _ without burning up, and so even his imagination was short on details.

He would not have called himself shy. And yet. 

When Charon knocked on his door, he jumped.

“You needn’t ever knock,” he said, answering the door and pretending not to be out of breath from how much he had hurried to get there and answer it. Charon stood, resplendent and simple and perfect, a basket in his arms and a shawl wrapped around his shoulders.

He smiled up at Julian, better than any daydream.

“I wasn’t sure if maybe you had patients. I just wanted to be polite,” Charon said gently as he stepped inside. “I try not to burst into your house unannounced~”

“Simon could teach you how,” Julian teased. Charon laughed.

Charon revealed the basket, and the warm meal within… and Julian realized that he hadn’t actually eaten anything that day, too excited for Charon’s return.

The little table in Julian’s kitchen was quickly spruced up by Charon, who used his shawl as a tablecloth, unpacking the food on top of it. Maybe Julian should have protested, but it was silly and  _ sweet _ and so very Charon of him. 

“I couldn’t bring you flowers this time,” Charon apologized. “The heat would have wilted them…”

_ Shit _ . Julian should have gotten flowers. He was only thinking about the wine, which, of course, he did have.

But… flowers were not so important, in the grand scheme of things.

“I can’t say I’d spend much time looking at them, anyways,” Julian admitted. He reached out, his fingers brushing Charon’s cheek, and Charon turned to press a kiss to his hand. 

“Next time,” he said, tinted pink across his nose and cheeks. 

_ Next time _ , like  _ Soon _ . Words that Julian had heard a hundred times before that meant something so different when Charon said them.

“So,” Charon said, an elbow on the table and his head in his hand, smiling at Julian. “Tell me everything.”

“I should be asking you that,” Julian noted, pouring them both a glass of wine. “A new job… and whatever mischief Simon has gotten into.”

“Oh, you know… just telling me how cool he thinks you are.” Charon sipped his drink. “He told me about some of the stories you told him. He was thrilled.” Julian had missed this. Just as much as Charon’s touch, as his presence, Julian had missed the way talking with him  _ felt. _ And it was clear, in Charon’s smile, in his touch, that he felt the same. 

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Julian asked with a roguish grin.

“Not that kind of trouble,” Charon reassured, “Really, Julian… I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’d talk with him like that…”

Julian frowned. “You sound like that’s fated to be a single occurrence.”

Charon blushed, surprised into an embarrassed smile. “Well, I didn’t know how you felt on the matter.”

“Charon…” Julian did not merely lean closer to him, but shifted his chair closer to where Charon sat. Charon laughed, but easily, happily mirrored the action, and Julian brushed his fingers over Charon’s cheek. “Simon is only a strange boy in that he was unknown to me. In the grand scheme of children being utterly incomprehensible… he’s a very nice boy.”

Charon laughed, harder this time, and had to press his hand over his mouth. Julian smiled.

“Really, truly, I enjoyed talking with him. He’s a bright boy, very curious. I fear I only have the macabre to teach him, but he was enthusiastic all the same.”

Julian’s expression softened. “And he is so dear to you. How could I not feel the same?”

Charon kissed him on the cheek. Julian could feel the heat of his blush, and soon it was duplicated in the blush that spread over his own features.

And there was that look again, so serious, so inexorably Charon. He hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, and then kissed Julian’s cheek again.

“We should eat…” he reminded Julian, reminded himself, “Before it gets cold.”

Julian readily agreed, pausing long enough to kiss Charon on his cheek, too. His serious look gone, Charon laughed again, and started eating.

“Can I ask you another question?” Julian wondered, in between bites of food and sips of wine. “About Simon, actually.”

“If the question is if you’re allowed to teach him about gory medical things, the answer is yes,” Charon joked. “He’d never forgive me otherwise.”

Julian laughed. He missed the way Charon brightened at the sound.

“That was  _ not _ the question, but important to know, regardless.” Julian set his wineglass aside. “My question is… when you found me, was he… home? Somewhere?” He frowned, but only in thought. How could he be unhappy here? “I haven’t been able to figure it out.”

“Mmm-” Charon finished a sip of his own drink, nodding, and then shook his head. “Ah, I mean, no, he wasn’t. When I found you, I asked him if he would spend the night at a friend’s house. I didn’t know the city well and wasn’t sure where to bring you, but couldn’t leave you there. And…” Charon shrugged, a little guiltily, “I didn’t know you. I could live with the consequences if you hurt me. I couldn’t live with them if you had hurt him.”

Julian wasn’t insulted. He laid his hand over Charon’s and squeezed reassuringly. “Either act is one I could not bear to do, but how would you have known?” He shook his head. “You made a kinder choice than anyone could have asked you to.”

"No one asked," Charon said, tugging Julian's hand to his lips so he could kiss his fingers. "No one had to."

Julian, for a moment, was caught bare. Charon's lips against his fingers, his own blush bright red against his pale skin, not shocked by Charon's affection, no, but hanging off of it. Needful of it. 

Charon's smile, so often warm and open, gained a flicker of mischievousness that only turned up the heat under Julian's skin. He had been very plainly seen… and it seemed that Charon was pleased. 

Julian smiled, shy, and tugged his hand free of Charon’s. He tapped him gently on the nose, and then settled back in his chair, so that he might eat a little more. Charon’s pleased smile didn’t dim, and he ate a little more too.

“You know…” Julian said after some time. “It occurs to me that I’ve been keeping secrets from you…”

“Oh?” Charon raised an eyebrow in an exaggerated fashion. “Good secrets?”

“Ah, well…” Julian joked. “It’s too much to ask of her to be well-behaved every day.”

His answer certainly earned him a reaction, and Charon immediately leaned forward in his seat, shocked and curious.

Julian laughed.

“I never told you, and for that I’m sorry,” he said. “But it occurs to me that you’d want to know I have a little sister. I think she’d quite like you, in fact.”

“You have a sister!” Charon hit his shoulder, far from hard, and Julian laughed again. “Julian, how could you keep this from me? She must be wonderful, I suspect.”

“She is,” Julian admitted. “An utter handful, and I adore her. I think you would like her.”

“I’m sure I would,” Charon said, and he was. “Tell me about her? Please?”

“She’s not so young as Simon,” Julian said, pausing for a drink. “She’s well an adult. But still, it can be hard to admit that to myself at times. I still feel very protective. Surely you understand?”

Charon nodded, much as Julian thought he might.

“Still, she’s very independent and strong-willed. A less delicate person might even call her stubborn.” Julian shot Charon a knowing look. “Ah, but she is dauntless and… it’s good to see.”

Julian, of course, was far from dauntless. Was it strange that he looked up to her, in some ways?

“So she has the courage and you have the sense?” Charon teased him gently.

“That is far too generous of you to say.” Julian pointed at him, pseudo-accusingly, but his smile was too bright. 

“It isn’t.” Charon leaned forward and kissed his finger, and Julian laughed. 

As always, when he finished eating a meal with Charon, Julian felt  _ good _ . Not just full, but well. And it wasn’t the alcohol: never had he been drunk on a measly three glasses of wine in his life. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” Charon asked him. “Or do you have the day off?”

Julian shrugged. “As much of a day off as someone like me gets. No appointments, but…”

Charon’s smile was sympathetic. “Will you rest?”

Julian shrugged. “I do not work so hard, you know.”

“Nonsense!” Charon said, emphatic. “I know I haven’t been able to come by in the past few days, but do you know how many people talk about you?” 

His expression softened into a smile and he leaned closer to Julian, one of his elbows on the table. “All I do is serve tea to people… And so many of them, just this  _ week _ , have spoken of you. It’s hardly a real study, but as far as surveys go…” He gestured. “You must at least work so hard to touch so many lives.”

“All of my whinging,” Julian said softly, his smile faint. “You don’t get sick of it?”

Charon breathed out a soft noise, not quite a laugh. “How could I ever get sick of excuses to tell you how wonderful you are?” he said. “At the worst, the  _ very _ worst, Julian, I could wish that things had been kinder to you, and that it was a little easier to believe me…”

Charon laid his hand over Julian’s. “But I’ll never get tired of telling you. You serve others with your whole heart, in so many more ways than medicine. What more could the world ask of you?”

And then, something seemed to occur to him, and he cursed.

Julian, having never heard him curse before, was startled.

“What is it?”

“I forgot desert,” Charon frowned. “I even thought of picking something up… but I was so excited to see you, I forgot about it.”

Charon had sworn… about that?   
Julian laughed, dispelling any lingering melancholy he might have felt. 

“You know…” He gave Charon a look he thought the man would recognize, a long gaze up and down, followed by a slow, adoring smile. “I don’t think you forgot to bring desert at all….”

Charon laughed, warmly, brightly, and pushed himself away from the table with one foot, and confident and easy motion. Then, still smiling, and so much as he had done their first night together, he opened his arms to Julian. 

Julian knew an invitation when he saw one, and rare was there ever one he wanted to answer so gladly as this.

He stood, but only for a moment, and crossed the small distance between them to sit himself very comfortably in Charon’s lap. Charon wrapped his arms around his waist, Julian’s arms around his shoulders, and pressed close to him, nuzzling his nose against Julian’s own. 

“I missed you,” he breathed, and how easily those words made Julian relax in his arms. 

“I missed you, too…” Julian said softly, and finally,  _ finally _ kissed him. 

Charon was so soft. His lips against Julian’s, the loose strands of his hair that Julian twined in his fingers, his hands on Julian’s back, pressed up under his shirt. Everything about him was  _ so _ soft, achingly sweet in the way he shifted his hips up against Julian’s, the way his hands tightened, possessive and  _ comforting _ as they gripped Julian close.

They parted, each of them short of breath, and Charon smiled up at him, dazzling and perfect.

“Goddess, you’re beautiful…” he murmured, kissing Julian again. “So,  _ so _ beautiful, Julian…”

Julian couldn’t fight back his own smile. Not just at Charon’s words, but the love in his voice was undeniable. And not just love but…  _ joyful _ love. He smiled up at Julian with kiss-reddened lips and a sparkle in his eye and though Julian could feel his own blush, he wasn’t an ounce ashamed or embarrassed.

This felt  _ good _ .

Charon breathed his name when he kissed Julian again, and Julian made a choice.

“It’s......Ilya,” He corrected softly, nudging his nose against Charon’s 

“Hm?” Charon didn’t understand, but he did stop kissing Julian long enough to ask. Patiently, he looked up at him, head tilted, his thumb rubbing slow circles against Julian’s back. 

“Ilya,” Julian repeated softly. “It's my real name.”

He watched the realization dawn in Charon’s eyes, a faint, thoughtful frown on his lips, and then Charon kissed his cheek. “What name do you  _ want _ to be called?” He asked.

It was a misinterpretation of Julian’s confession, but the gentlest possible one. It only made Julian smile.

“No, it's not like that.” When Julian shook his head, it nuzzled their noses together. “I like them both. It’s just that... Julian... blends in better.”

“Ah…” Charon said softly. “Julian at work. Ilya ...here.”

Ilya nodded, and Charon kissed him again.

“Ilya…” He murmured, testing the name,  _ tasting _ it. “You’re so beautiful…”


	10. Finally, Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilya gets what he sought initially.  
> It means more than he ever thought it would.

Charon was more than generous in his praise, he was effusive. 

And so… happy.

“You’re so beautiful…” He murmured, kissing the corner of Ilya’s lips, his cheek, his jaw. Ilya could feel Charon smiling against his skin. “Every inch of you..”

Charon shifted, pressing heated, worshipful kisses to the curve of Ilya’s throat, unhurried and adoring. Ilya shivered in his arms, head tilted back to give him access to anything and everything he could want. Charon’s words earned a soft, breathless laugh from him.

“You haven’t seen every inch, yet,” Ilya teased.

“All the more reason to show me…” Charon murmured the words against him, pressing a kiss to where his collarbone peeked out of the collar of his shirt. “So I can insist that I was right…”

The next kiss, in the hollow of Ilya’s throat, was followed by the wet heat of Charon’s tongue against his skin, and Ilya shuddered hard. He gripped Charon’s shoulders tightly, more tightly than perhaps he should have, and tried to gasp out an apology.

“S-sorry, sorry, I didn’t-”

“Shhh…” Charon pressed another kiss to his neck, then another. “I like it when you hold me tight…”

Ilya made a weak noise, at Charon’s words and at a second, heated kiss. Charon tugged on his shirt, gently, and asked “Help me with this…?” and clumsily, Ilya tried to do exactly that. He pulled his gloves off with his teeth, tossing them aside, and then pulled his shirt off over his head. It joined his gloves on the floor.

“Wow…” Charon breathed, smoothing his hands over Ilya’s chest. “Oh,  _ wow _ …”

Ilya flushed red. He wasn’t so far gone as to forget that Charon was a professional at such things, but his reaction was so emphatic, so honest, that Ilya couldn’t help but turn scarlet. Greedily, Charon gathered him close again, pressing eager kisses along his collarbone.

“You’re so beautiful….”

“Getting c-closer-” Ilya joked, panting lightly. Charon laughed and reached up, cupping his cheek in Charon’s hand so he could kiss Ilya good and proper. He could feel Charon smiling into the kiss, and though he felt so weak and needful and slow, he smiled too.

“Closer and closer,” Charon teased. Ilya shivered.

“May I…?” Charon’s fingers brushed where Ilya’s eyepatched still covered him, and Ilya blinked his unmarked eye down at him. For a moment, he was lost as to what Charon was requesting.

Then, he bit his lip.

“It… doesn’t bother you… that I wore it at dinner?” He asked. It was Charon’s turn to be confused, and he kissed Ilya’s cheek. 

“Of course not,” he reassured softly. “It makes you feel more comfortable, doesn’t it?” He asked. “I assumed that was why you wore it…”

Ilya nodded, nuzzling into Charon’s touch. “I just… Didn’t want you to think it was, you know... _ you _ .”

Charon breathed out a laugh and pulled Ilya into a searing kiss. Ilya groaned, his grip on Charon slackening just a little. He could not help the wave of gratefulness that washed through him, though he would have been unable to explain why the feeling was so profound.

“Not everything is about me, love,” Charon said softly, breathlessly, smiling up at him. “It’s okay. I just want you to be comfortable. More than anything in the world, that’s what I want.”

Ilya made a much softer sound, and he pressed himself close to Charon and kissed him again, more gently, more sweetly. 

“I’d  _ like _ to see all of your beautiful face,” Charon murmured. “But only if that would make you happy, too.”

Ilya knew he could keep the eyepatch on. He’d been in Charon’s presence both ways, of his own choice and otherwise. If he kept it on here, for his own happiness, he felt certain that nothing would change.

But Charon had  _ asked _ , and Ilya delighted, quietly, at the idea of making him happy.

And so, the eyepatch joined the rest of his clothes on the floor.

Charon said nothing, only breathed a great, contented sigh and smiled up at him, thrilled by his choice. His kiss said everything his words didn’t.

“I want to put my mouth  _ everywhere _ ,” Charon said softly. “Ah, I hope you’ll let me~”   
Ilya opened his mouth to answer, to ask if, maybe, Charon thought he was the kind of idiot that  _ wouldn’t _ want that, but he never managed the words. Charon’s nails against his back, not sharp, not even in the same  _ world _ as sharp, just present and firm and perfect, made him shudder and left him panting.

He rocked his hips, shamelessly, against Charon’s. His reward was feeling Charon rut up against him, gasping and holding close to him. 

“I-” There was something precious and powerful about making Charon stammer like this. “I want to make you feel so good, Ilya…” He breathed. “That’s… what I want…”

His hands smoothed down Ilya’s back, falling to his hips, his grip possessive and desiring without being rough. Charon was surprisingly strong, for his appearance. This was a discovery that sent a thrill through Ilya. Charon had said to him, so sweetly,  _ I love it when you hold me tight _ , and he was not the only one. That Charon was so eager, so confident in the way he touched Ilya only made Ilya more desiring. 

“I want to take care of you,” Charon said, their next kiss sharing just the faintest whisper of teeth against Ilya’s bottom lip. Even that was enough to make him shiver. 

“You’ve taken such good care of me,” Ilya said, looking down at Charon with lust-darkened eyes. “I… want to take care of you.”

“Hm?” Charon nudged his nose against Ilya’s… and rocked his hips against him again. It was worth it to feel the way Ilya reflexively pushed back against him, gasping lightly. He was so beautiful even at his most composed but  _ this _ was something else entirely.

“You already take care of me,” Charon said softly. “But… far be it from me to protest more of your attention.”

Taking that, rightly, as his consent, Ilya kissed him again, trying to soothe the wounded noise Charon made when he pulled free of his arms. He wasn’t planning on going far. With a graceless sort of beauty, he slid from Charon’s lap to the floor, his long legs haphazard around him. His hands, no longer on Charon’s shoulders, smoothed their way up his thighs.

This time, it was Charon who shivered. 

“I-Ilya…” He said, biting his lip and smiling and blushing pink across his cheekbones, so pretty and perfectly Charon. “A-are you sure? You don’t have to, of course…”

“Utterly sure…” Ilya shifted, folding his legs under him more comfortably, nuzzling his cheek against Charon’s thigh. “So absolutely, utterly sure…”

Ilya stroked his thighs, his touch firm, comfortable,  _ knowing _ , and when they reached higher up than he was nuzzling, his thumbs stroked soothing, teasing circles on the insides of Charon’s thighs. His reward was immediate: Charon swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and shivered and squirmed under his hands. 

Charon stammered his name again, and Ilya smiled against his thigh. What a good sound. What a perfect sound. It satisfied something deep in Ilya’s chest. 

He shifted, pulling himself a little closer to Charon, pressing kisses against where his pants were still cruelly fastened closed. Charon brushed his fingers through Ilya’s hair, murmuring how beautiful he was, and Ilya made a pleased noise. 

“Goddess…” Charon breathed, struggling to hold himself back from pressing into Ilya’s kisses. “Ah, but you are cruel to me~” He teased, breathless. Ilya made a content sound, and Charon  _ felt _ it, earning a soft sound of his own in payment. 

“Help me with these…?” Ilya tugged on his pants. His words were still slow and heavy with desire, and hearing him speak in such a way made Charon feel  _ compelled _ to kiss him. It was a nuisance to do it, with Ilya desiring other things of him in that moment, but a gentle tug of Ilya’s beautiful hair and Ilya’s grip on him tightened again. He shuddered, and returned Charon’s affections hungrily. 

“Sorry,” Charon apologized, laughing faintly. “I just… really needed to kiss you.”

Ilya made groaned softly, reassuring him that the kiss had only been too welcomed. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips kiss-bruised and parted, and he tugged weakly on Charon’s pants a second time.

“Yes, yes, my love,” Charon reassured, laughing breathlessly. “I’ll help.”

He did, helping Ilya tug his pants undone, his laughter faint and breathy as he raised his hips and Ilya so impatiently, but so reverently, helped move his clothes out of the way. He wasn’t sure how far the man intended to undress him, but the answer seemed to be ‘as much as possible, but not entirely, lest Ilya have to move even an inch further away from him’. Charon settled back against the chair, and Ilya was on his knees, looking at him raptly.

Even the sight of his eye didn’t unsettle Charon. How could it? He loved it as much as he loved the rest of Ilya.

“Be careful of your knees…?” Charon implored softly. He carded his fingers through Ilya’s hair once more so he could tilt his face up into a kiss. 

“S’fine,” Ilya muttered, blinking warm, hazel eyes at him. Everything about him was almost  _ painfully  _ inviting. 

Ilya kissed him again, and then the line of his jaw, and then his chest, over his shirt. Charon played with his hair, stroking his free hand up and down Ilya’s forearm, revelling in their shared touch, in their closeness. In moments, Ilya’s warm fingers wrapped around where he was desiring, and Charon could feel the heat of his breath against him.

Ilya wasn’t hesitating, he was only savouring. The feeling of Charon’s fingers in his hair, the warm weight of his cock in Ilya’s hand, his little gasp-murmured reassurances and praise. Ilya bent low over Charon’s hips and licked a heated path up his erection, revelling in the way it made Charon tense and squirm. Charon made a soft, aching sound and rocked his hips weakly into Ilya’s hand. It was immensely rewarding. 

And he did not torment the man any further. Ilya was so eager to please him, eager to  _ feel _ him be pleased, and he took Charon into his mouth without more delay. 

That Charon cried out so sweetly only rewarded his boldness. 

“I-Ilya,” Charon groaned softly, stroking his hair. “Oh, Goddess…”

His mouth was so warm and slick and most profoundly of all was how desiring he was, how eager he was. Charon shivered under him, trembling under his hands and mouth, squirming as he fought the urge to press into that perfect, welcoming heat. He could, he was sure, Ilya would let him, he would adapt, but he shouldn’t have to. He lay, weak and tense in the chair, his head tilted back, one of his hands buried in Ilya’s hair, his other smoothing over Ilya’s back and shoulder, encouraging, reassuring. 

Every shaky, ragged breath was laced with praise.

“Feels so good…” Charon groaned softly, “Ilya, mmm…” Ilya’s saliva-slicked fingers stroked where his mouth didn’t reach, and Charon shuddered. “Y-you take such good care of me, Ilya…”

Ilya worked him thoroughly, carefully, with a single-mindedness that seemed nothing short of worshipful. Charon repaid him in prayers of his name, and the occasional, gentle tug of his hair, when Ilya’s clever mouth did something that made Charon particularly weak. His endless rhythm worked Charon closer and closer to the edge, and soon Charon was struggling to hold back, trying to gather his wits enough to warn him, to try and be courteous to the man who was being so much more than courteous to him. 

He panted Ilya’s name, trembling and moaning, no longer with his head thrown back but half-curled around where Ilya was making a feast of his pleasure. He came with a cry, shuddering hard, and Ilya did not stop until he was utterly spent. 

“I-Ilya,” Charon panted, tugging at him. Dazed, breathless and somehow sated from his work, Ilya blinked up at him. His lips were reddened and slick and he could still taste Charon even when he swallowed. It was not something that made him unhappy.

“Ilya,” Charon repeated, begged, and pulled him into a kiss, needy and weak. Ilya followed, of course, as eager to kiss and be kissed as Charon was. They were both trembling, albeit for slightly different reasons, but neither of them were unhappy.

“Goddess, you’re incredible,” he murmured, kissing him again. He thought he could taste himself in their kiss but that was of secondary importance to kissing Ilya, as were a lot of things. 

Ilya hummed happily, kissing him back.

When they parted, Charon stroked his thumb over Ilya’s cheek apologetically. “I’m sorry, I tried to speak up…” Ilya hadn’t struggled, had taken his breaking utterly in stride but that didn’t mean that he didn’t  _ deserve _ a warning. A warning would have been kinder, and Charon always wanted to be kind to him.

Ilya made a quiet, emphatic noise, tugging Charon by his shirt into another kiss. Charon assumed it meant he was forgiven. He’d try to do better, of course… But it was no overstatement to say that Ilya had overwhelmed him. 

“My turn to take care of you~” Charon said softly, framing Ilya’s face in his hands, nudging their noses gently together. “Right?”

“I….” Ilya swallowed, blinking hazy eyes up at him.

Intimacy affected him so deeply, Charon thought. He was soft, pliant under Charon’s affections, and it made Charon feel so protective of him. That Ilya would let himself be so vulnerable was a gift, and not one that Charon took lightly.

“Do you want that?” Charon asked softly, seriously. 

Ilya nodded, skating the edge of his nose along Charon’s own. “Yeah... “ he breathed. “Y-yes…”

Charon kissed him again. 

He took Ilya’s hands in his own and stood up (wobbling for a moment, Ilya truly had done a number on him), helping Ilya to his feet, looking up at him when he finally stood. His hair was mussed and his shoulders were slack, without tension…

But Charon could feel his desire, straining against his pants and pressing against Charon with gentle insistence. He smiled, and pressed a few kisses to Ilya’s chest.

“Let’s go to bed, okay?” Charon said gently. “I’ll be right behind you, I just have to fix my pants.” He laughed softly. Ilya leaned down to kiss him again, and squeezed Charon’s hand.

“I’ll wait…” he said softly, and Charon’s heart was warm.

Charon fixed his clothes enough that he could make it to the bedroom, Ilya’s hand in his, and when he was there he discarded them with little fanfare, tossing them on the floor of Ilya’s room like they belonged there. He didn’t blush, at least, not until he caught Ilya staring.

“What is it?” He giggled, and pushed himself up on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Am I funny looking?” He teased gently.

“You’re so…” Ilya kissed him again, and then his cheek and his neck and a moment later he buried himself there, his face pressed to Charon’s throat, his arms wrapped around him needfully. If Charon hadn’t already been blushing, the heat from feeling Ilya’s body pressed to his would have done it. 

“Ilya…” Charon murmured, wrapping his arms around him, smoothing his hands over Ilya’s back. He shivered, from the warmth of him, from the reality of this, and from feeling Ilya press against him once more. 

He wasn’t sure what Ilya meant to say, but that was alright. He could tell him now, or later, or never. Charon could be patient, it was little trouble. He stroked Ilya’s hair, and felt him shudder as he breathed Charon in. 

“You okay…?” Charon asked.

Ilya groaned, his grip on Charon tightening for a moment, and he rut his hips slow and firm and wanting against Charon’s stomach. Charon breathed out a laugh. Ilya was not unhappy, it seemed. Good.

“Will you take those off for me?~” Charon’s touch strayed lower, tugging on Julian’s pants. Then they moved lower still, smoothing down over the shape of his hips, back up his thighs, over his ass. He was not so cautious that he passed up the chance to appreciate his shape, and Ilya groaned against his neck as Charon unabashedly felt him up. 

"I…" he swallowed, nodded, "Mhm," he settled on, reluctantly letting go of Charon so he could start to shove his clothes away.

"Hey, gentle…" Charon chided softly and kissed his cheek. He helped, tugging Ilya's last articles of clothing free from him.

Charon made a pleased sound, awed by the view, and pressed close to him again, trailing kisses over his chest. "Lay down, my love. Let me take care of you."

Ilya did step back, closer to where his bed was, but he pulled Charon along with him, keeping him close. Charon laughed softly, kissing his chest and collar again and again, and happily let himself be led. When Ilya's legs bumped the side of the bed, he sat, nuzzling against Charon's stomach. 

"Will you lay back for me?" Charon coaxed, stroking his hair. Ilya agreed easily and fell back, flat on his back at first but not for long, pushing himself up in his elbows to smile at Charon, lust-lazy and content.

"You're so beautiful…" Charon said, sinking to his knees, smoothing his hands up Ilya's thighs. "And so good to me, Ilya. So sweet and so good. I'm going to take care of you, too…"

"Charon…" he breathed, reaching out to him, brushing his fingers over his cheek. Charon smiled back up at him, turned his face into Ilya's hand to kiss there next. 

Then he bent lower, tugging himself free of Ilya's fingers to press those same kisses to his hips and thighs. Ilya was so satisfying to have under his hands, pale and beautiful, dark hair dusted over his thighs and chest, the muscles of his thighs shifting under Charon’s hands as he kissed and kissed. 

And Ilya had been so quiet, not unresponsive, just wrapped in the warm haze of his lust, but he quickly ceased to be quiet with Charon’s mouth on him.

He gasped, fingers twisting in the bedspread as Charon tasted him. Charon gripped his hips with reassuring firmness, so Ilya never worried about breaking his grip, about hurting him, even when he squirmed and moaned and yearned for more. 

Charon was ravenous for him, making pleased sounds around his cock as he joyfully teased Ilya. Ilya brushed shaking fingers through Charon’s loose, long hair, guiding it out of his face. Eventually, he twined his fingers through the man’s soft locks and held them back, his hand carefully and comfortably gripping Charon’s head.

“Thank you,” Charon said, flashing a smile up at him, earning a laugh that was half gasp, half groan, as Ilya was tormented by the removal of his mouth and rewarded with its return. 

Ilya wasn’t sure what would do him in first, Charon’s skill or his adoration. It was hard enough to endure the pleasure of his mouth, warm and wet and eager, but the love of it, the way Charon took such joy in his pleasure, that might have been harder to bear.

He wasn’t sure it was a cruelty or a mercy that he never got to find out.

“Ilya-” Charon, breathless, pulling free of his cock to stroke him with his hand. Ilya’s back arched as he tried, fruitlessly, to regain that warmth. For his trouble, Charon bent down and pressed a few more kisses to his length and head, smiling up at him mischievously.

“My Ilya,” he murmured. “Do you want more than this?”

Ilya could not consent fast enough, propping himself up again on his free arm, trembling under the perfect, unrelenting touch of Charon’s fingers.

“Please,” he begged, made weak by even the idea of it. “Charon,  _ please _ -”

“I’m only  _ too _ happy to, I promise,” Charon reassured him. “Do you have something to make it a little easier?”

“Th-the drawer,” Ilya nodded to his bedside table. “In there.”

“I have to part from you.” Charon pressed more kisses to him: to his cock, his thighs, his hip. “But I will be quick, I promise. Just a moment, my love-” he reassured, kissing him more before regretfully pulling himself away. Ilya groaned, aching for his return, his breathing ragged and warm, and he laid on the bed, lax and impatient.

But soon, Charon was there again, stroking his hands up Ilya’s thighs, warm and certain and unshy.

“Goddess, I can’t get enough of you…” He breathed. “I want to touch, to  _ taste _ everything, Ilya…”

“I-” Ilya swallowed, his mouth dry. “I want that, Charon, I-I want… you, please-”

“I’m here…” Charon soothed, trailing kisses over his skin. “And I’ll be ever closer very soon. You just have to hold on a little longer, okay?”

Ilya pouted, and that nearly pulled Charon from his task because how terrible was it not to kiss him when he looked like that? But Charon opted to try and soothe him with touches and kisses where he could reach… Though, he was sure to look up, watching Ilya’s face when he hooked one of the man’s long legs over his shoulder. It was a good thing he had, because Ilya flushed  _ beautifully _ .

“I’m going to take such care of you…” Charon promised, kissing him over and over. “My Ilya…”

Making good on his word, Charon was quick to return his mouth to where Ilya was desiring of him, and Ilya’s head fell back, his body utterly open to the man who tasted him, eager for his every touch.

“C-charon…” He breathed, rocking his hips ever so lightly against Charon’s mouth. Charon made a soft, encouraging sound, leaning in closer to him, embracing his movement. Ilya was quick to replace his hands where they had been, twisted in the coverlet, buried in Charon’s hair. 

It was no surprise when Charon’s slicked fingers pressed against him, but he still jumped, shuddering and moaning without an ounce of shyness. Charon’s sweet, warm mouth pulled free of his cock, he supposed, as punishment.

He was weak and greedy, yes, but far from unhappy.

“Ilya, shhh…” Charon hushed, stroking him with his hand, kissing his inner thighs and cock. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Almost-” Ilya swallowed, “wish you would.”

Charon laughed, low and soft, and something about it made Ilya shiver. “I’d rather torment you in other ways, my love.”

He shuddered. Charon was different than he was used to, but… he liked it. 

True to his word, Charon took his time. He stroked Ilya, kissed him, worked his fingers into him with such care and patience that Ilya never suffered a moment of discomfort. His only suffering was his  _ impatience _ , the way his whole body ached and his cock dripped with want as Charon slowly coaxed him open. First a single finger, and then a second, and  _ oh _ the way Ilya moaned when he spread them inside him.

“C-charon,” He gasped. “God-”

A third finger had him rocking back against Charon’s hand, his body trembling and breathing ragged, knowing it wasn’t enough to get him off but trying his damndest just the same. His whole body was tense and hot and every second that ticked by only made him more desperate, not just for release but for  _ Charon _ .

“Charon, please,” Ilya begged. He forced himself to let go of the bed, and instead he used that hand to reach down, stroking Charon’s cheek, trying to coax some sympathy from the man who loved him. “Please, Charon…”

It worked. How could Charon deny him? He was too sweet to tease forever.

Maybe next time.

“Of course, Ilya, of course…” He kissed a few more places, a prefaced apology for gently pulling his fingers from his beloved’s desiring body. Ilya shuddered, but he barely thought about it, far too concerned with guiding Charon up onto the bed with him.

“You have to move a little,” Charon urged him gently, kissing a line up Ilya’s chest. “Can you do that for me?”

He was right, of course. Laying with his legs half-off the bed wouldn’t suit their needs, and with some complaining, Ilya moved, sighing gratefully when his head hit the pillow and he could sink down into the bed again.

Charon sat, for now, straddling his hips, so he could lean forward and kiss Ilya as he’d been so dying to do. Ilya kissed him back with equal fervence, deeply relieved to have Charon in his arms again.

“You’re sure…?” Charon asked, nuzzling against him. 

“Never have I been so certain in my  _ life, _ ” Ilya said. Charon laughed and kissed him again, and felt the way Ilya smiled against his lips. 

He shifted, settling between Ilya’s legs, stroking himself with fingers slicked by Ilya’s mess and the leftovers of what he had used to help ease his strain. Ilya watched him with an undisguised hunger, and Charon blushed and laughed. 

“I’m here…” Charon promised, smoothing his touch over Ilya’s legs. He leaned close, planting one of his hands over Ilya’s shoulder, the other reaching between them, helping to press him where he was needed. Already Ilya was arching his back, pressing against him eagerly, and it was everything Charon could do to take it slowly, leaning into him and trying not to be overwhelmed by the temptation of Ilya’s body.

He was so warm and open and utterly wanting. It was so hard to be careful.

But he was worth it, always.

“Ilya…” he murmured, so relieved to be close, finally, again. Slowly he rocked his hips, shuddering at the feel of Ilya around him, so warm and perfect. Under him, Ilya trembled and clung to him, hitching his hips up, trying to press back against him for more.

“You’re so cute like this~” Charon teased, breathless, and laughed. He kissed Ilya’s cheek. “You’re always beautiful, Ilya…”

Inch by perfect inch, second by unbearable second, Charon filled him. Ilya squirmed, panting, breathing out Charon’s name as he sunk into him, gasping when Charon’s hips finally pressed to his.

“Charon-” Hungry kisses along his jaw, ending at his lips. Ilya needed to taste him, to feel him, and he clung to Charon as they both tried hard to steady themselves. It was an impossible goal.

“I’m going to move, okay?” Charon reassured.

“Please.” Ilya nodded, nuzzling his cheek. He swallowed, laughed, and added, “You are so lovely, and yet, so cruel.”

Charon, bent overtop of Ilya, groaned softly when he laughed, feeling the way Ilya’s body tensed at the sound. The tables turned a moment later when Ilya’s words made him chuckle, and it was the other man who struggled. 

Dramatic, even now. Ah, but Charon’s heart was so warm for him.

Charon shifted, withdrawing from him almost fully, but that was the last of Ilya’s torment. Breathing his name, Charon thrust into him in earnest, giving them what they both had so badly desired. 

Ilya gave himself entirely to the pleasure, to the perfect stretch of it, to the heat of Charon’s body against his, to their panted breaths and that perfect, agonizing friction they made. He wanted to speak, to somehow tell Charon how it felt, what it  _ meant _ , but he was unable to. He could do little but be overtaken, and it was such a good feeling.

And Charon was unfailing in his adoration of Ilya, praying his name under his breath, thrusting into him with such perfect forcefulness, thorough and single-minded. Ilya wrapped his legs around Charon’s waist, trying to press back against him, eager for every thrust.

Of course, ever thoughtful, Charon shifted so he could reach between them, and wrap his fingers around Ilya’s aching cock. Ilya cried out, tense and weak, desperate for relief, and Charon pressed a hasty kiss to his cheek.

“Ilya, come for me,” Charon asked, his voice soft even when he couldn’t catch his breath. “I need to feel you. Won’t you please, Ilya..?”   
And that was too much for him. Being tormented so sweetly, and then asked in Charon’s low, warm voice… he cracked, his orgasm wracking him with shudders as he spilled himself between them. Charon hadn’t lied: feeling Ilya orgasm, he followed helplessly, his cry muffled by the way he buried himself close, his thrusts turning stuttery and uneven.

Breathless and dirty and shaking, they laid there in silence together for several moments. Ilya felt boneless. He felt utterly wrung out. It was  _ wonderful _ . He held Charon close, breathed him in, and thought of nothing but the warm afterglow of what they had made together.

“Are you okay…?” Charon asked quietly.

Ilya groaned, and when Charon kissed him gently, he returned the kiss. His senses were finally returning, but it was slow. 

“‘M okay…” He said, nuzzling Charon’s nose. “Better than…”

“That’s good…” Charon kissed his cheek. “How about I get us cleaned up… and then we can sleep…”

Ilya groaned, his arms around Charon tightening just a little.

“Can’t we just stay like this…?” He muttered, nuzzling into him. 

“We can’t.” Charon pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But I said I wanted to take care of you, right? I’m not done yet.”

Ilya reluctantly agreed, making a weak, displeased noise when Charon pulled free of him. Charon kissed his cheek, promising him that he’d hurry back. He was just as reluctantly to be parted as Ilya was, and scurried back to bed with a dampened cloth and  _ many _ kisses for his poor, neglected love. He tidied them both, and tossed the soiled cloth somewhere with their clothes. 

Then he pulled the blankets over both of them, and Ilya was quick to snuggle into Charon’s arms.

“I missed you…” Charon said, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Missed you too…” Ilya murmured. Charon held him, playing with his hair and stroking his back, and Ilya was happily to return to his previous boneless state, curled close to him.

“That was wonderful....” Charon sighed. “You’re wonderful.”

Ilya made a soft sound and kissed Charon’s chest. “Wonderful doesn’t cover it…” He said tiredly. “Or you…”

“We can talk about  _ that _ over coffee in the morning,” Charon teased gently. “You sound exhausted, and-” he swallowed a yawn, and then laughed softly. “And I am, too, it seems…” He brushed his fingers through Ilya’s hair. “Are you alright to sleep?”

“Mhm…” Ilya only snuggled in closer to him. He’d be happy to sleep like this, skin to skin with Charon, worn out and utterly relieved. But, a thought occurred to him, and he raised his head sharply.

“Simon-” Ilya blinked up at Charon. “Is.. was he expecting you home? Do we-”  _ Need to leave _ , he thought, because regardless of what his senses otherwise might have told him, in this moment, his heart assumed he’d be sleeping with Charon, no matter where that was.

Charon smiled, and pushed himself up a little to gently kiss him.

“He’s staying at a friend’s. Don’t fret, love. He’s safe, and so are we. You can rest, okay...?”   
Ilya heaved an immense sigh of relief, sinking down against Charon again. Charon settled, too, wrapping his arms around him, holding him close.

“I love you,” Charon reminded him, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you, Ilya.”

And though he was exhausted, Ilya had no trouble summoning the words to reply.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOORAY!   
> Can y'all believe I've never played The Arcana? I do love this sad, messy boy, though.  
> Thank you, Strongerthananysword, for the betaing and the enthusiastic motivation.  
> Hope you all love seeing Julian happy as much as I loved writing it.


End file.
